


If We Could Get to the Moon

by Snoflinga



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Coming Out, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Secret Relationship, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoflinga/pseuds/Snoflinga
Summary: Draco has successfully hidden his odd feelings for Harry Potter until the Yule Ball makes them suddenly burst out. Harry notices there's something new about the Slytherin, but he can't quite figure out what.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 52





	1. Yule Ball

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first fic I'm ever publishing, and this is still very much a WIP. I've ~10 chapters ready-ish and I've plotted the whole work, so I thought I might as well start posting the first chapters.
> 
> Just for a warning, English is not my first language (not even my second to be honest, haha), so there are mistakes and I may use words that sound funny especially to native speakers. I'm going to read all the chapters many times and run them in Grammarly before posting, so I hope my story will be at least readable. It's okay to correct my mistakes, but I just want to point out I'm writing only for fun :) 
> 
> I'm adding new tags and characters along the way. 
> 
> This story is mainly from Harry's POV, but it starts from Draco's POV. It's only a glimpse of their fourth year, and I'd say the story begins officially on their fifth year.
> 
> Struggling with internalized homophobia is one of the main themes in this story, so if internalized homophobia or homophobia in general are triggers, please don't read.

The day Draco Malfoy had waited impatiently for months had finally come. It was a beautiful winter day and the first snow glistened like millions of small diamonds everywhere around the castle in the bright moonlight. Draco wouldn't usually prefer to celebrate Christmas at Hogwarts instead of his home, Malfoy Manor, but this year was different in many ways. First of all, the whole castle was decorated rather decently for once. Not that Draco would admit it after years of loud complaint about the staffs' lack of style in festivity decorations. And in any case, Hogwarts could never be as luxurious as the Manor, of course. Secondly, all the students from all the four Houses, at least all those above the third class, had decided to stay at school to take part in the Yule Ball. It wasn't a Christmas feast like the ones at school all the other years for those pitiful students who didn't have a family to celebrate Christmas with. No, this was something that happened so rarely it was truly an honour to be one of those to take part in it. Besides, the Ball was not only for the Hogwarts students but also for the international visitors, even for a couple of famous ones, who were staying at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament. All that being said, Draco just couldn't miss the chance to make an impact on all the important international students or to brag with his dancing skills and fine and expensive taste in dress robes. 

"Draco, darling, I've been ready for ages, so if you could ever so kindly stop admiring yourself in the mirror already. You've dreamed of seeing Potter humiliating himself for months and you know this is a once in a lifetime chance you don't want to miss!" Pansy, Draco's date to the Ball, snarled impatiently behind the door to the boys' dormitory snapping Draco back to reality. 

Potter. To be totally honest, Potter might actually be Draco's main reason to participate in the Ball. Not that Draco would ever admit it to anyone, not even to himself. As a Triwizard Champion, Potter must be on display all the evening having everybody's eyes on him. Only this time his stupid Gryffindor courage and dumb luck wouldn't save him like during the first Tournament task. The git, clumsy as ever, had simply no taste at all and wouldn't certainly survive the opening dance with his two left feet. The humiliation seemed to be inevitable for the Gryffindor, and Draco was really looking forward to witnessing that occasion. And, who knew, maybe help Potter to make himself even more embarrassed in one way or another. 

Draco's friends had commented a couple of times on his constant need to embarrass Potter and to get a reaction out of the Gryffindor, and Pansy and Blaise had gone even as far as to call it an obsession of sorts. Though of course there was no way Draco would be obsessed. Potter was just so utterly annoying and arrogant and basically just begging for problems all the time, so Draco couldn't help but continuously bring the git back down to earth. Someone had to do it.

Once more Draco watched himself in the mirror with a satisfied grin on his face. This night was going to be something so much better than his Potter Stinks badges. 

\--*--*--*--*--

"Did they open the doors already?" Pansy asked irritated, trying to peek between Draco and Blaise in her giant and horrifyingly pink dress robes. 

Even though the Great Hall had already been almost entirely full when Draco had come in with his lackeys, they had had no problem in finding a good spot in the front row right in front of the dance floor. Or finding might not be a very accurate word in the Slytherin context, they had rather made a spot for themselves by elbowing and jinxing other students when necessary. 

"For the tenth time Pans, no, they haven't opened the doors yet. And yes, we do tell you as soon as we see any kind of movement,” Draco said, gritting his teeth nervously. 

"You know, according to proper etiquette, you should let your date be in front of you, not behind you trying to get a crappy glimpse of the scene behind your shoulders,” Pansy whined, jabbing Draco harshly in the middle of the back. 

Draco rolled his eyes annoyed focusing again on the doors that lead into the Great Hall, "May I kindly remind you that it was _you_ who said this is something _I’ve_ been waiting for months and don't want to miss in a million years? Besides, I've planned something for Potter so that he'll mess up with his steps even more with my help."

Greg and Vince chuckled on both sides of Pansy while Pansy crossed her arms wrinkling her nose. Blaise huffed without turning his gaze from the doors. "As if Potter needed your help to make an utter fool of himself. How many was it again, Draco? Was it eight new hexes you dug from the library books and studied for weeks? And just for this evening, only for Potter.”

Draco felt his face blushing and he deliberately tried to ignore Blaise by focusing on the doors even harder if possible. Blaise and his stupid insinuations about Draco being obsessed with Potter had become more frequent this year. At first, Draco had been able to take them as some kind of twisted jokes, but lately, he had noticed that there was something odd behind Blaise's comments and gaze that Draco wasn't really catching. This missing piece made Draco every time more and more restless as if Blaise knew something essential about Draco that Draco didn't know himself. And now, once again, Draco felt the anxiety rising and making his body stiffen. 

Suddenly the doors to the Great Hall opened and Draco heard some students crying out excitedly. The four champions entered the Hall with their dates, Potter and the Patil girl bringing up the rear. All the champions and their dates seemed to be smiling excitedly, meanwhile, Potter looked terrified, as if he preferred being anywhere else at that very moment. Draco's gaze was fixed on Potter and his way to stumble awkwardly behind the older champions, and it was truly a miracle that the Gryffindor hadn't already fallen on the floor. 

All of a sudden Draco felt his body freeze. For some inexplicable reason, Draco felt a strong and odd pull rising rapidly towards the git. There was something about Potter's stupid, messy hair, his stupid clumsiness, stupid, ugly scar and, admittedly, quite fine dress robes that made Draco feel his mouth going dry and suddenly forgetting all the taunts and hexes he had studied fervently for this very occasion. Draco's stomach flipped as he felt an already familiar fluttery feeling in his chest, this time just much more vivid and petrifying than ever before. Draco's head was totally blank, and he could do nothing but stare at Potter with a somewhat shocked expression on his face. 

"Would you look at that, Potter doesn't even have to try to dance. He can't obviously get himself even to the dancefloor before messing up with the steps. Seems like you don't have to hex him after all,” Pansy laughed sardonically, turning her eyes to Draco. "Hey, what's gotten into you?" Pansy asked, gripping Draco's shoulder and shaking it.

"Why are we gossiping about Potter, didn't you see Granger? I didn't almost recognise her at all,” Blaise said hastily before Draco had time to react to Pansy's accusation. 

All the Slytherins turned their heads, trying to see what Blaise was talking about. "The one with Krum, is it really the Mudblood?" Pansy shrieked, eyes widening in amaze when she saw Granger walking and smiling widely in her floaty, periwinkle-blue dress robes. Not only were her dress robes dashing, someone had done miracles to her usually-so-bushy hair as well. 

"I really didn't see that coming. If only had I known about Mudblood's hidden, secret sides before…" Blaise said bemused before glancing at his own date, Daphne Greengrass in slytherin green dress robes, with discontent on his face. Not that there was anything wrong with Daphne, but this time Granger might have drawn a longer straw. Or probably even the longest at the whole school. 

The others continued discussing Granger's transformation without Draco hearing a word. Draco's head felt like a big mess of conflicting feelings and thoughts that just came and went before he could take a grip on any of them. At first, Draco could nothing but admire how exceptionally handsome Potter looked in his bottle green dress robes that brought out the colour of his emerald green eyes quite stunningly. Before Draco could contemplate that thought deeper, he felt jealousy rising, making him clench his fists slightly. As if there was any need to feel jealous. It was rather quite the opposite, the Patil girl didn't seem that content with being Potter's pair as they started to lurch around the dancefloor, Patil having to do all the work. Still, at that moment Draco wanted nothing more than to be the one to stagger on the dancefloor with Potter, holding him tight against Draco's own body and feeling the warmth and electricity of their connected bodies as he would be sinking into Potter's green, beautiful eyes. 

As Draco became aware of the disturbed image of himself and Potter dancing together, Draco started to feel the panic rising. Suddenly his throat was so tight he couldn't breathe properly anymore, and his heart raced, making him dizzy. This couldn't be happening, not to him. Draco had always been really good at ignoring all that kind of feelings he wasn't supposed to feel, and to feel attraction to Potter at any level was absolutely one of them. For some reason, Draco now found it impossible to get his deranged feelings to stay put. He had hidden his feelings for Potter for such a long time under the surface, that once they had gotten loose, they had started to explode almost violently making Draco feel like an utter wreck.

Abruptly someone gripped Draco's trembling shoulder. "Draco, look at me,” Blaise said calmly but firmly, obliging Draco's eyes to his. 

Draco hesitated but turned his stormy eyes to meet Blaise's after a moment. "Hey, it's okay, just concentrate on breathing for a moment. In and out,” Blaise murmured reassuringly, and Draco tried his best to focus on inhaling and exhaling in turns.

Draco hadn't even paid attention to his breath that had become too fast and shallow at some point. Slowly but surely Draco's breath became more even as he continued staring at Blaise's serene eyes and concentrating on Blaise's warm but strong hand on his shoulder. 

"Now, that's better. You have to go out and get some air. Just take your time to pull yourself together. I'll see that no one comes to disturb you,” Blaise continued whispering and squeezing Draco's shoulder one more time before letting go. 

Dazed, Draco did as Blaise had advised him. He barely noticed people whispering and staring at him oddly as he walked out of the Great Hall. He strode through the entrance hall as quickly as possible, and when he finally reached to open the front doors, the cold winter air welcomed him with open arms.

\--*--*--*--*--

Draco had always loved this time of the year. Some people considered winter to be just something depressive and grim, and all they could see around them was death as many of the birds had left to the south, days had become significantly shorter, trees had lost their leaves and flowers had disappeared. Instead of death and misery, all Draco could see was comforting peacefulness that radiated from the sleeping nature. Everything was just sleeping, gathering their strength to feel alive again for the upcoming spring and summer. 

In fact, during the long winter months, Draco felt as if he was settling down and resting alongside nature. Not that he would have been calmer or quieter at school, he had his social status and a high position in the hierarchy to hold on tooth and nail. But if and when Draco felt too restless, he could always seek some peace of mind by going out for a walk. Just like at that very moment.

Winter's calmness and stillness wrapped Draco tight, and he felt as if he could breathe again after his little episode in the Great Hall. Draco walked slowly around Hogwarts grounds as the glistening snow crunched under his feet and the moon created long, black shadows on the clean white snow. Draco felt his body shivering slightly when he arrived at the shore of the Black Lake, and he was sure there were at least a couple of degrees below the zero. 

Draco regarded the thin ice cover on the lake while images of his episode came streaming back to his mind. This time, though, the panic didn't take over, even if he still felt rather anxious. He had seen all that coming, even though he had managed to lie to himself for a long time. Draco sighed heavily. He knew that there was no way he could continue lying to himself, not anymore, not after that night. Somehow Draco felt even a little relieved. At least he knew now what was happening to him. Or rather to the insides of his head. 

To admit being gay was hard. Draco's unconscious mind had given him hints for years, but Draco had simply ignored them and tried to bury them somewhere deeper. He couldn't be gay. There was a huge contradict in Draco's mind, and he didn't know how to handle it. How could one be something they weren't supposed to be? Draco was well aware of all the expectations towards him, and those definitely didn't include courting another bloke. Draco was supposed to marry a nice, pureblood witch and produce an heir, simple as that. If he didn't meet those expectations, he would let his family down and would most likely be disowned and thrown out of the family. Or actually, of the whole pureblood culture and basically everything Draco was familiar with. There wasn't a bigger shame for a proper pureblood family than a son with some sick… proclivities. Draco's father had always made very clear his opinions on poofters. They were as worthless as muggles and Mudbloods, or maybe even worse. And Draco had already been such a disappointment to his father by letting some Mudblood girl top him on school grades. Draco's greatest desire had always been to be worthy of his father's admiration and acceptance, so he couldn't just let his father down, not anymore. 

As long as Draco's unconscious had hinted about being gay, as long had it hinted about being bent for Potter. Draco didn't even know which was worse. At first, he had explained to himself that his constant desire to get Potter's attention arose from the git's irksomeness that made Draco's blood boil. Actually, Potter didn't usually even have to do anything to annoy Draco, the bastard's bare existence could be enough of a reason to make Draco react. Draco had longed for Potter's attention ever since they both had started at Hogwarts, and at first annoying Potter had felt like some kind of a crusade for Draco. He had wanted to repay Potter for humiliating him in front of the others by not accepting Draco's friendship in the first year, or so he had explained to himself. Gradually Draco's lonely crusade had started to include also other, more complicated feelings than pure hatred and bitterness. If it ever had included only hatred and bitterness in the first place. At some point, it had become clear to Draco that he didn't really want to rile Potter up to make him suffer. Draco just wanted Potter to notice him for reasons that Draco hadn't really let himself to ponder. 

For starters, Draco seemed to have a thing to Potter's deep green eyes and his black and always-so-messy hair. Even though Draco was used to comment nastily on Potter's appearance, Draco thought Potter had always been the most beautiful boy he had ever seen with his stupidly pretty green eyes and tousled hair, and even when he was wearing his cousin's old muggle rags. Draco couldn't help the feeling of wanting to absorb every little detail of Potter and his body. He wanted to try how Potter's hair would feel like if he could run his fingers through it, how soft and warm Potter's skin would feel like under his fingertips, how right Potter's flat chest would feel against his own, how well their lips would match with each other…

Though it had never really been just Potter's appearance that drove Draco mad, and it made things so much more difficult. Some lust based on one's appearance would probably just come and go without pain, but Draco's feelings had been something deeper right from the beginning. To begin with, he had always envied Potter's close friendship with Weasel and Mudblood. Not that Draco wanted to be Weasel and Mudblood's friend, he envied just their relationship as such. Everybody could see how close they were to each other, how they trusted each other and how they stood for each other, no matter what. Potter was utterly, and quite often even stupidly, selfless and loyal to those people he truly cared for. Despite his erratic background being obliviously Wizarding World's number one hero grown up by muggles, Potter was always so benevolent, brave and he just seemed to know how to do the right thing. Or maybe it all was rather thanks to his background. A background that was really different from the one Draco had. 

Draco's father and his friends had always ranted about Potter's pure evilness because he had killed their ever so loved Dark Lord. Therefore, Potter must be such a threat and danger, especially to the purebloods. Even as a child Draco had wondered, how the Dark Lord could have been so almighty if he managed to get himself killed by a baby, not to mention a Half-blood baby. And how a child in his age could be evil. As far as he had known, children couldn't be evil. How could they, they couldn't do magic, they couldn't defend themselves and they were just so small, weak and innocent. Once Draco had expressed his thoughts to his father and, to put it mildly, his father hadn't been very pleased. After that Lucius Malfoy had made it extremely clear to Draco to never question his opinions again.

In any case, Draco's feelings for Potter were something that could never be reciprocated. If Potter ever happened to fancy blokes, he could never fall for Draco. Draco had tried to hide his feelings so furiously that he had shown Potter only quite opposite feelings than his real ones. Potter was certainly 100% sure Draco hated him more than anyone, after all these years of cruel bullying. And on some level Draco really hated Potter. Sometimes it was just so much easier to blame Potter for causing Draco to feel these stupid feelings towards him and making Draco struggle so much with the path his family had laid for him. Without Potter, Draco would probably be able to meet his father's expectations so much easier. 

It was not a miracle Draco's head had been a big mess for a long time. Admitting his feelings finally helped somewhat, or at least his head felt a lot clearer. Now he only had to come up with a plan. Draco had been raised to follow his path, and he knew he should follow it with pride. He could never let his true feelings to show, no one could ever know. The only possible way Draco saw was to try to hide his feelings even deeper. Draco knew he couldn't hide his feelings from himself anymore, but he was pretty sure he would be able to fool everyone else. Maybe he could try to date Pansy during his time at Hogwarts and start courting right after graduating. Draco knew he wouldn't be able to be perfectly happy, but maybe he would be content enough. The happiness of his parents came first, while his own wasn't as important. And how could he even be happy if he didn't have his family or his heritage? 

Draco shook his head slightly, trying to come back to the present moment. He glanced at the frozen lake once more with new determination in his gaze before he started to head back to the castle. Now Draco had a plan to follow, and he knew he was capable of doing it.


	2. Detentions & Unfair Prefects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some parts of the dialogue are taken directly/only a little modified from the Order of the Phoenix. The same goes with some of the following chapters as well.

Harry was leaning his forehead absentmindedly against a cold window on the Hogwarts Express on his way back to Hogwarts for his fifth school year. He was sharing the compartment with a happily chatting group that consisted of Neville, Ginny and, a new and quite interesting acquaintance, Luna. At first, Harry tried to catch their excited mood about going back to school, but he had to give up quite quickly as gloominess and grumpiness took over his mind. Different negative emotions had become a more and more familiar company to Harry over the summer, and he didn’t quite know how to handle them. 

Not that Harry wouldn’t have any real reasons to feel grim or grumpy. It was actually quite the opposite, and one could say that his summer hadn’t exactly been an ideal one. Dementors, hearing at the Ministry, Prophet’s articles and constant nightmares had all been messing with his head, and no matter how much he tried not to think about them, they came always swirling back with emotions that made Harry feel like drowning. He hadn’t even had time to process Cedric’s death on the Triwizard Tournament before all of the summer’s incidents had come pouring out one after another. Maybe that was the reason why Cedric had been, and still was, one of the main characters in the nightmares that made Harry wake up screaming as in major pain and agony. Even Dudley, as obtuse as ever, had found Harry’s nightmares as his sore point and started poking at them every once in a while to make him riled up. It felt just so unfair how someone could speak so lightly about everything he had gone through as if his reasons to wake up screaming every night were just something petty and childish. 

The last time Dudley had mentioned Harry’s nightmares, he had asked with amusement and disdain in his voice if Cedric had been Harry’s boyfriend. As Harry had felt the anger rise in him as usual, he had noticed also some other strange and tingling sensation. The brief use of the word _boyfriend_ had stuck up in Harry’s head making him feel somewhat confused. Now that Harry had started thinking about this, it wasn’t even the first time this subject came up in his head. For example, Harry knew that for some reason he had always noticed how other blokes looked like: what colour their eyes were, how their features were sharper and harsher than the girls’ and how the robes fit their flat chest and broad shoulders. On the contrary, Harry had hardly paid any attention to the girls, and his friends in the dormitory found him utterly oblivious every time they were having a long chat about everyone’s current crush. But Harry was pretty sure he hadn’t ever fancied Cedric or any other bloke, for that matter. Harry might have been… curious about some blokes, but definitely nothing more. And Cho was such a nice girl and Harry kind of fancied her, right? At least he hoped so, he didn’t really want his life to get any more complicated from that what it already was, thank you very much. Nevertheless, Harry didn’t really have time to concentrate on some kind of a love life when Voldemort was constantly looming in the background. Harry huffed bitterly at that thought. As if he had ever had a chance to enjoy something so mundane as being just a normal teenaged boy with a stormy hormone system. 

The worst thing about the whole summer had probably been that he hadn’t been able to share his thoughts and worries with anyone, not even with Ron and Hermione. No one had informed him about Voldermort’s last moves at all, or actually nothing about the Wizarding world on the whole. Somehow Harry had felt just like before he even had known he was a wizard, as if Hogwarts had just been a very long and well-elaborated dream. He had felt so alone having been forced to live so much time just inside his own head without distractions or someone to listen to him. When he finally had been able to join his friends and Sirius, the feeling of loneliness and being cut off from his own world hadn’t really left him. Harry was even a little bit embarrassed about blowing up at his best friends so often these days, but he really had a hard time managing to handle the emotions that he had been bottling up for so long. Both Ron and Hermione behaved too understandingly towards Harry, watching him with pity and reserve in their eyes, which made Harry squirm with embarrassment every time he was alone.

Abruptly, the compartment door slid open with a small creak cutting Harry’s train of thought. Ron and Hermione had finally been able to leave the prefect carriage, at least for a moment.

“I’m starving,” Ron announced, stalking into the compartment and slumping onto the seat next to Harry. “So, what’s up here?” Ron asked, grabbing one of Harry’s Chocolate Frogs. 

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, this one is just sulking as if it was the doomsday,” Ginny peeped, pointing at Harry with a mischievous smile on her lips. 

“I don’t think he’s really sulking about the doomsday, why would the doomsday be something to sulk about? It’s not necessarily a bad day,” Luna commented airily with her feeble voice, peeking from behind her Quibbler.

Hermione cast a worried glance at Harry. She had been even more worried about him than usually after his, let’s say a little bit difficult, summer and the outbursts after that. “No, I’m really okay, just a little bit tired, that’s all. Erm, so how did it go for you two?” Harry hurried to say, trying to get the attention away from himself. 

“Well, we got some information about our duties as prefects. And there are also other prefects, two from all the Houses,” Hermione started saying, wearily.

“And you’ll never guess who’s the lucky one from Slytherin,” Ron added sarcastically cutting off Hermione’s explanation. 

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer. This bit of information made his already grumpy mood to sink even more. He had had difficulties to accept that he hadn’t been chosen as a Gryffindor prefect while both of his best friends had, and now with Malfoy being a prefect, it all felt like a hundred times worse. 

“’Course,” Ron said bitterly, stuffing another Chocolate Frog into his mouth. 

They dived into an easy conversation about all the prefects from different Houses and their expectations about the new school year ahead of them. It made even Harry feel a little bit better, or at least more normal. He was so used to share the compartment with Hermione and Ron that their presence made it soon feel nice and cosy. He managed to forget even his bitterness about Malfoy being a prefect until the compartment door slid open once again.

Draco Malfoy appeared in the doorway of their compartment with a wide smirk on his face. Malfoy’s most loyal cronies, Grabbe and Goyle, were standing and sniggering beside him like two dumbheads that were frightening only because of their physical appearance. Harry had seen this encounter coming, but it didn’t make it any easier. 

“What?” Harry snapped angrily before Malfoy had time to open his mouth. 

“Manners Potter, or I’ll have to give you a punishment,” Malfoy sneered maliciously, poking at the prefect badge on his robes. “As you can see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.”

“Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone,” Harry forced himself to say as levelly as possible, ignoring how the blood had started boiling in his veins making him flush slightly. 

Malfoy didn’t look happy as he narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, Potter, how does it feel being second-best to Weasel?” When he saw Harry’s face turning bright red, he continued, smirking again. “Poor Potty, did I touch a nerve? Just watch yourself because I’ll be dogging your every footstep this year.” 

Before Harry had time to even consider what he was doing, he stood up and let all the pent-up rage erupt at the smirking git by grabbing his collar and slamming him harshly against the wall. Malfoy seemed to freeze surprised by Harry’s sudden reaction. Their encounter hadn’t probably proceeded the way the Slytherin had expected, and for a split-second Harry thought he was seeing something like despair and anxiety flickering behind the all too familiar Malfoy mask. Malfoy’s stormy grey eyes locked with Harry’s deeply green ones, and neither of them seemed to be able to move or breathe. 

“Harry, stop, he’s not worth getting into troubles,” Hermione screamed as Ron put his arms around Harry’s chest, trying to pull him away from Malfoy. 

Harry let go of Malfoy’s robes stepping backwards, and he felt immediately strangely cold as the git’s body wasn’t pressed against his own anymore. Harry glanced at Malfoy once more and saw the Malfoy mask back in its place. 

“Don’t you think I won’t get you for this, Potter. I might not be able to dock any points from your oh-so-dear Gryffindor yet, but just wait until we get to school” Malfoy drawled threateningly and straightened his robes before leaving, Grabbe and Goyle following on his heels. 

Hermione closed the compartment door slowly as Harry and Ron sat back on to their seats. 

“Well, that was a warm re-encounter,” Ginny said, breaking the silence. Hermione shot a warning look at her before meeting Harry’s eyes, concerned. Harry could guess that his best friend had also caught Malfoy’s way of using the word _dogging_ , which made them both feel uneasy. Harry wished he was alone in the compartment with only Ron and Hermione, so they would’ve been able to discuss if that could mean Malfoy had a hunch about Sirius. 

“And here I was hoping to have one normal school year with less Malfoy lurking behind the corners. But no, it just has to get worse every year,” Harry whined, remembering the Slytherin’s ways to get under Harry’s skin in the past. Harry had already a lot in his mind, so he didn’t really need Malfoy to occupy any more of his time and energy than usually. 

“What did Dumbledore even think when he decided to make Malfoy a prefect? I mean, even though the candidates in Slytherin aren’t anything to celebrate, there’re always better options than the ferret,” Ron huffed frustrated beside Harry. 

Harry’s friends continued complaining about Malfoy being a prefect as Harry sank back into his own thoughts. He couldn’t forget about the expression he was quite sure he had seen on Malfoy’s face for a fleeting moment. The bare anxiety and despair had made Malfoy look so vulnerable and exposed that it had caught Harry’s attention. Harry had seen many expressions on Malfoy’s face, but these were some new ones Harry couldn’t really place into the picture he had created of the Slytherin during their school years. Malfoy was always so aware of himself and what he gave out. The most typical expression, Malfoy’s trademark smirk, was the one Harry was most familiar with. In addition to that, Harry could recognize angriness when the git ranted about a lost Quidditch match, impatience when he snapped at Grabbe or Goyle, haughtiness when Muggle-borns or Half-bloods bypassed him on the corridors and fear when he confronted magical creatures he didn’t know how to respect. Just like Hippogriffs, for instance. But anxiety and despair? They were expressions beyond Malfoy’s normal scale. Having seen them made Harry feel somehow strange, even a bit queasy. To be able to see Malfoy vulnerable, if even just for a second, made Harry see Malfoy in a somewhat new light. The bastard had seemed to be… human. At first, Harry thought it might have been because Harry had caught Malfoy off guard by attacking him, but Harry abandoned the thought quite quickly. He couldn’t even count the times he had grabbed the git’s robes, and vice versa, but the reaction had never been like this. Malfoy would never drop his mask, not if there weren’t some really grave reasons behind it. 

\--*--*--*--*--

As rapidly as Harry’s mood had lifted a fraction because of coming back to Hogwarts, as rapidly had it come crashing back down. The first days of the school year had made Harry sulky and angry for a number of reasons, and the list just felt like growing more and more each day. The lessons had started awfully with Potions where Snape had given Harry a hard time because he had made a couple of mistakes brewing the Draught of Peace. Harry knew that his potion hadn’t been even the worst attempt in the class, but he still had got all the blame. And what was worse, in front of sniggering Malfoy and other Slytherins. As if Potions hadn’t been enough, Harry had also managed to get detention for every evening for the first week because of telling the truth about Voldemort’s return in the first Defence lesson with Umbridge. Harry was frantic. He had got detention many times during his years at Hogwarts, and usually for valid reasons, but never for telling the truth.

This year it seemed like Harry wouldn’t be able to relax anywhere in the castle. Thanks to Prophet, Ministry and Umbridge, Hogwarts students were sharply divided into ones who believed Harry and supported his story, and to the others who believed Prophet’s articles and thought Harry had gone nuts. Wherever Harry went, he could feel the eyes on him and hear fierce whispering that consisted most likely his name and the words _You-Know-Who_ , _Prophet_ and _madman_. Even Seamus had decided to take the Prophet’s side, so Harry couldn’t really calm down even in his own dormitory. 

Harry’s head was aching as he, Ron and Hermione were walking to their first lesson of Care of Magical Creatures. The headache had become so familiar to him that he didn’t really pay any attention to it anymore. As Harry, Ron and Hermione came to Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they got abruptly reminded of the worry for Hagrid when they saw Professor Grubbly-Plank instead of their friend. They had wondered where Hagrid had gone without saying a word to them, and not even the new Professor was willing to tell them when Harry tried to ask.

For some reason, smirking Draco Malfoy seemed to know something. He had been joking about Harry with his friends before the class had started, and now he seemed more than happy when he leaned across Harry to seize a bowtruckle. 

“Maybe the stupid friend of yours has got himself badly injured,” Malfoy whispered to Harry’s left ear so that only Harry was able to hear him. 

“Or maybe you will if you don’t know how to shut up,” Harry snapped back angrily, trying to keep his voice down. 

Malfoy didn’t move an inch, and he was still breathing warmly against Harry’s ear. “Maybe he’s been messing with stuff that’s too big for him, if you get what I mean,” Malfoy said and started to back away, sneering.

Harry felt blood rushing in his veins just like during their previous encounter on the train, and he grabbed Malfoy’s wrist before the Slytherin had time to walk away. Once again the Slytherin git seemed to freeze as Harry touched him and his mask dropped down letting Harry see the mix of despair and anxiety on Malfoy’s face. Harry stared confused at Malfoy before he got his voice back. 

“What are you on about, Malfoy?” Harry whispered harshly.

That seemed to snap Malfoy back to reality, and he dragged his hand from Harry’s grip.

“Don’t you dare to touch me like that anymore,” Malfoy snarled and strode hastily back to his Slytherin friends. 

Harry watched dazed Malfoy’s back as he walked away. This was the second time Harry had seen the Slytherin behaving out of character, which made Harry sure he hadn’t just imagined the first time. What made the git react like that always when Harry touched him abruptly? How was it even possible that Malfoy was able to show some bare and humanlike emotions?

“Harry, what was that about?” Hermione whispered worriedly when she stepped to Harry’s side and put her hand tenderly on Harry’s left shoulder. Harry hadn’t even realized that other students might have noticed the little interaction between him and Malfoy. 

When Ron had come to Harry’s other side, Harry started telling them in a low voice. “Malfoy knows something about Hagrid. He was hinting that something may have happened to him.”

Hermione inhaled sharply and frowned her eyebrows, concerned. “What did he say exactly?”

“I don’t know, something about handling stuff that is too big to him. I didn’t catch it that well, Malfoy was acting somehow, er, weirdly.”

“Yeah, what was that all about? Ferret looked speechless for a moment, as if you had done something,” Ron commented, bemused. 

“I didn’t do anything, just grabbed his wrist,” Harry snapped crankily.

“I didn’t say you did, just wondered. Ferret’s never like that, he has always something to say, likes too much his own voice,” Ron said, lifting his hands defensively. 

“That’s beside the point. I’m worried about Hagrid. What could Malfoy mean with stuff that is too big to him? Although I’m sure Dumbledore would know if something had happened to him,” Hermione said, and Harry could see her thinking furiously.

“Yeah, and when was the last time Dumbledore told us anything,” Harry said gloomily. 

“And if the three of you could concentrate on the lesson and discuss your private matters in your leisure time,” Professor Grubbly-Plank said, raising her voice and watching pointedly at Harry, Ron and Hermione. 

“Let’s talk more after the class,” Harry whispered and seized one of the bowtruckles. 

\--*--*--*--*--

The following days in Harry’s life passed by like a blur. All the classes started, and there was already more than enough homework. Hermione would tell them it was because of the O.W.L.s, but Harry thought there would never be a reason big enough to justify piles and piles of homework in their first week. Adding other obligatory stuff in the mess, like eating and pleasant writing sessions with Umbridge, Harry felt like there weren’t enough hours in the day. 

Regarding the question of Voldemort’s return, other students became even more polarised if possible. The malicious whispering and sniggering continued as usual, but now random students might also just suddenly stop Harry in the middle of a corridor and tell him loudly and eloquently how they believed Harry and supported him firmly. This made Harry feel extremely awkward, and of course, Malfoy happened always to be nearby smirking at Harry when he tried to stammer some kind of an answer. Other than that, Malfoy didn’t try to confront Harry after the very first days at school. Harry found this a little bit odd as he had already almost got used to the face-to-face encounters with the git. At times, when lying on his bed late at night trying to get some sleep, Malfoy’s odd look behind his Malfoy mask came to Harry’s mind. He hadn’t come any closer to understanding what was going on the Slytherin’s mind, and he deliberately refused to ponder that too much as there were so many other, much more important things going on. 

Finally, after the longest first week Harry had ever had at Hogwarts, Friday arrived and allowed Harry to have a little rest. Before that Harry had one detention left, the one that had prevented him to attend the Keeper tryouts. The night had fallen when Umbridge finally thought Harry had learnt his lesson and let him go. When Harry left Umbridge’s office, he could walk just around the first corner before he had to lean against a wall for a moment. His scar had started to hurt abruptly during the detention and now also his hand was bleeding and throbbing worse than after the previous sessions, both making Harry feel dizzy. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate only on the coolness of the stone wall behind him. 

“Well, well, how am I not surprised to find _you_ wandering around the castle after the curfew in the first week,” snarled a too much familiar voice somewhere near Harry. He snapped his eyes open, just to meet Draco Malfoy’s sneering face right in front of his own. 

Harry just rolled his eyes. “If you really must know, I had detention,” Harry said coldly and started to stalk towards the Gryffindor Tower. He was feeling so tired that even Malfoy couldn’t rile him up this time. Only Malfoy didn’t seem to let him go that easily. 

“Detention in the first week, this must be your personal record. Don’t you worry, as a prefect I can promise you this is just the beginning,” Malfoy said, now pacing beside Harry.

“What do you want, Malfoy? What are you doing here anyway?” Harry asked tiredly.

“Oh, you’re really that obtuse. I’m having a prefect round, and now I’m seeing that you are going kindly straight to your beloved Gryffindor.”

“Fine.”

“What fine? Is the Chosen One really this easy to tame? I had wished for a bit more challenge you know, as I promised to be _dogging_ your footsteps this year. Anyway, I’m still going to keep my promise, of course, I’m going to make your year a hell,” Malfoy went on babbling.

Hearing Malfoy using the reference to Sirius, with or without knowing, for the second time during the week made Harry see red. He pulled his wand out of the pocket and pointed it at Malfoy’s chest. 

“If you know what’s best for you, you leave me the fuck alone right now,” Harry said through his teeth, watching Malfoy straight into the eyes. And once again, Malfoy’s face changed, and Harry could see the new unguarded expression on it. It made the git seem all too exposed, all too human, which made Harry hesitate. Neither of them was breathing now, and Harry lowered slowly his wand. He studied Malfoy’s eyes for one more second before turning around and continuing walking.

It took a couple of seconds for Malfoy to gather himself before he rushed back to Harry’s side. “How dare you to point your wand at me you bastard. I told you not to touch me. Do I have to spell it for you, so your little brain gets it? DO. NOT. TOUCH. ME,” Malfoy said, fuming now on Harry’s side.

Harry tried not to pay any attention to the Slytherin and started to walk more quickly.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Malfoy shouted and grabbed Harry’s arms pushing him harshly against the wall and pinning him there with his body weight. 

Harry could feel Malfoy’s whole body warm against his own and Malfoy’s rapid breath on his face as he stared into the Slytherin’s furious eyes. 

And then happened something Harry hadn’t been able to foresee even in his wildest theories. 

Malfoy crashed his lips against Harry’s, trying to kiss him fervently. Harry froze as he felt Malfoy’s warm mouth moving against his. It wasn’t at all like Harry had thought his first kiss would be, tender, clumsy, shy and thrilling. Something beautiful that would make him have butterflies in his stomach. There was nothing beautiful in Malfoy’s kiss. It was desperate and even violent as Malfoy was pushing himself too hard against Harry, gripping his arms too tight and moving his lips and teeth too harshly against Harry’s as if pleading Harry to answer the kiss. 

After a couple of seconds, the moment was gone. Malfoy let go of Harry and took hastily two steps backwards as if Harry was something utterly sickening. Harry watched at Malfoy’s face without being able to say anything. He looked suddenly shocked, lost and frightened, as if he had no idea what he had just done or where he was at that moment. Malfoy’s hands started to shake as he took more steps backwards. 

“Fuck you, Potter. Get the hell away from me,” Malfoy said, voice trembling. 

Harry was still frozen to the spot as all thoughts had left his mind. He could do nothing but stare unbelievingly at Malfoy with wide eyes until Malfoy turned around and started running towards the dungeons. 

Harry didn’t shout at Malfoy to try to make him stop and explain. Actually, Harry had quite a job to make his own body obey him before he was able to start walking slowly towards the Gryffindor Tower. Harry felt emotionally so overwhelmed he didn’t actually feel anything at all. It was a strange sensation, as if someone else possessed Harry’s body and made him walk forward, step by step. Even the sharp pain on Harry’s forehead and hand couldn’t pierce the coma-like state he had drowned in. 

After a moment that had felt like an eternity, Harry finally reached the entrance to the common room and stepped in. 

“Mate, what took you so long? I’ve been waiting for ages,” Ron said, rushing excitedly to his friend and throwing his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “You never guess what, I actually did it! Here you can see Gryffindor’s new Keeper!” Ron continued, grinning widely. 

Harry felt bad that he had forgotten about the whole tryout, but he still tried to smile normally back at Ron. “That’s brilliant Ron!” Harry said with a strained voice. 

“Yeah, I know. But it wasn’t easy, you know. There were quite many who came to the tryout, so the level was really high. I’ve no idea how I actually did it. It’s so great to play together, Harry! We’re so going to crash Slytherin this year!” Ron continued, babbling happily.

“Hey mate, are you feeling okay?” Ron asked as he noticed how stiff and absent Harry was. 

“Er, yeah, just fine. A little tired, you know, Umbridge and all. I think I’d better go to bed,” Harry managed to say awkwardly before heading to the staircase. 

“Right, good night then,” Ron answered, disappointed.

Harry stopped and turned around one more time. He gave Ron a tired but wide smile, the first real one for days. “I’m really happy for you, for real. We’ve got to celebrate this tomorrow.”

Then he hurried to the dormitory and slumped right to his bed, without even changing clothes. That night Harry slept restlessly, having blurry dreams about Draco Malfoy’s foggy, grey eyes and warm and desperate kisses.


	3. Twisted Slytherin Schemes (?)

The weekend had felt like a safe haven. No Dolores Umbridge, no frustrating lessons, no continuous stares and gossiping, and, last but not least, no Draco sodding Malfoy. Or so Harry had thought. All Harry wanted was to hide the whole weekend behind the closed curtains of his bed, but the reality hit him early on Saturday morning when Ron pulled Harry’s curtains open. Ron was bursting with excitement, and he made very reluctant Harry to get up and discuss Quidditch tactics first thing in the morning until Harry made an excuse to visit alone the Owlery before breakfast. Although he didn’t manage to get left alone in the Owlery either as he bumped into Cho. Harry didn’t know if Cho noticed, but their encounter felt, well, somewhat awkward after what had happened with Malfoy last night. His infatuation to the Ravenclaw felt now something really distant and even dreamy-like, as if it never had really existed in this universe. 

If Harry had got to choose, he’d have wanted to go on living happily oblivious about everybody who made him feel confused or anxious in any way, but that didn’t seem to be an option. After the Owlery incident with Cho, Harry felt like his tolerance didn’t budge anymore, at least not that weekend. And then, Malfoy just had to storm to Gryffindor’s Quidditch practise with a bunch of Slytherins as if nothing had happened. The Slytherins made Ron’s practise a hell by their mocking and catcalling, but even Harry had a hard time to concentrate. In fact, he was studying Malfoy’s expressions and gestures so intensively he almost got knocked off the broom by a wandering Bludger. Malfoy looked like himself, with a wide sneer on his face as he participated eagerly in the Slytherin mockery. Only once Malfoy happened to glance at Harry, and the hesitance in the Slytherin’s eyes was the only thing that revealed to Harry there was something unusual going on inside his head. 

When Harry and Ron finally made it to the dinner, they both were exhausted and annoyed. Especially Ron was grim, thanks to the Slytherins, and he was just rolling his food around the plate without even tasting it, which was really uncharacteristic to him. 

“Don’t let them get you down, it’s exactly what they are trying to do,” Hermione said encouragingly as she scrutinized worriedly her friend.

“It’s easy for you to say when the whole gang hasn’t just been mocking you for hours,” Ron countered morosely. 

“They just think you’re an easy target because you are new in the team,”, Hermione said glancing at Harry and trying to get his support. 

“’Mione’s right, Slytherins have never played fair,” Harry tried.

“Exactly. You got chosen to the team for a reason,” Hermione stated firmly. Ron still said nothing, but a small hint of a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. 

Harry turned his face towards the Slytherin table. He saw Malfoy poking absently at his food, while Parkinson and Zabini were talking excitedly, probably about the Gryffindor’s nightmarish Quidditch practise. Parkinson tried to get Malfoy’s attention by waving a hand in front of his face, but the git just stared and snapped something, looking annoyed. Harry thought it was strange since Malfoy had been quite obviously enjoying himself just a moment ago on the Quidditch pitch. The git’s mood seemed to change like day and night in a matter of minutes. 

“Harry, why are you staring at Malfoy?” Hermione asked, frowning. Now both Ron and Hermione were looking at him, which made Harry flush guiltily for some reason. 

“Just wondering how to hex the git. Bet it was him who was the mastermind behind today’s episode,” Harry muttered, turning his gaze to his plate. 

Ron snapped his head up to look at his friend animatedly. It was stupid really how Harry hadn’t thought how easy it would be to cheer Ron up by making a simple phrase with the words _Malfoy_ and _hex_ in it. 

“ _Harry_ ,” Hermione said warningly. 

“I could ask if Fred and George came up with something. Ferret would be quite a good test subject for some new product,” Ron said, grinning. 

“Could they make a product just for Malfoy? A candy that turns you into a ferret or something? Would be nice to let him experience that again as he seemed to appreciate it a lot last year,” Harry said, and both he and Ron turned their gazes to Malfoy, snickering. 

Apparently, Malfoy felt their gazes on him, and he lifted his own gaze to stare back at them. As he saw Ron and Harry smirking at him, he went pale and looked frightened. Malfoy seemed to be frozen to the spot until his fork fell from his hand making some of the food on his plate to fly right into Parkinson’s lap. Parkinson started to shout something at Malfoy, but he barely noticed. Malfoy got up hastily and fled the Great Hall without saying a word to his puzzled-looking friends. Harry frowned. Malfoy was acting utterly strangely, as if his and Harry’s mutual taunting was suddenly something totally new and alien to him. 

“Well, that was odd,” Ron said, lifting his eyebrows. 

Hermione looked disappointedly at both of them and huffed. “Malfoy is a git, but it doesn’t mean you should lower yourselves onto the same level. Especially you, Harry. You know he’s a prefect now and wants to get you into troubles.”

“No, but ‘Mione, I was talking about how he saw us snickering and then just buggered off. Didn’t know he’s this sensitive,” Ron said, still with a perplexed look on his face.

“Well, he probably heard you talking about turning him into a ferret, you weren’t talking exactly silently about that. Which, by the way, is a horrible way to threaten someone. Do you have any idea how scary it must be to be transformed into something without your own consent and having no control over your own body? No one deserves that kind of punishment, not even Malfoy. No wonder it’s a sore spot to him.”

Neither Harry nor Ron said anything. Being a prefect had made Hermione not to tolerate _any_ kind of bullying or taunting, and it would’ve been a suicide mission to try to debate with her when she was in her speech-mode. Harry started to eat his now cold food as his thoughts wandered back to Malfoy. It seemed like he couldn’t read the Slytherin at all. Malfoy had always felt predictable, in a way like an open book, but now he had become some kind of a puzzle. Or maybe Harry just had never noticed that all he had seen was just a tip of an iceberg, and there really might have been something more under the surface. 

\--*--*--*--*-- 

Harry had thought that his life wouldn’t feel ordinary this year, but he had been wrong. It didn’t mean all his problems would’ve just disappeared into thin air, he just got used to them. Students were gossiping, Prophet was disparaging him, Umbridge continued meddling with everything at Hogwarts and Malfoy was occupying too many thoughts in Harry’s head. On the bright side, Harry could now see his friends every day after the lonely summer, and he had his Quidditch practise and cosy evenings in the common room playing Exploding Snap or Wizard’s Chess. Oddly, he had a strange feeling he had been missing even the classes and homework. They were just something so mundane and boringly ordinary that they managed to help Harry to anchor himself in the present. 

There hadn’t been even any new encounters with Malfoy until one Thursday morning the git had quite clearly got up on the wrong side of the bed. When Harry was entering the Great Hall with Ron to eat a hasty breakfast, Malfoy was getting out at the same time. He glanced at Harry with a sullen expression and shoved Harry deliberately with his shoulder. 

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Harry said, stumbling a little.

“Oh, forgive me, your Highness, I should have known the whole bloody doorway was reserved for the Chosen One’s exclusive use,” Malfoy snarled.

“That’s not –” Harry started saying, but Ron cut him short. 

“Seems like you are Harry’s biggest fan nowadays, Ferret. Can’t clearly keep your hands away from him,” Ron snapped at Malfoy.

Malfoy stiffened immediately. His face flushed and his expression became a strange mix of angriness and fear. Now that Harry looked at Malfoy more closely, he noticed that the Slytherin looked really exhausted. His whole posture radiated animosity towards anyone who dared to come too close, and by the dark circles under his eyes, it was obvious he hadn’t been sleeping well for some time. 

“What are you insinuating, Weasel?” Malfoy asked quietly, with a hint of panic in his voice. 

“You just envy Harry for all the attention he gets. You still don’t get any, even though you’ve tried so hard for years. It’s quite pathetic, you know.”

Malfoy gave a bark of derisive laughter. “Really, Weasley? Do you really think the attention Potter gets is something to brag about? _Disturbed and dangerous_ must be my personal favourite.”

Ron’s face turned red of fury, and he stepped forward, trying to grab a hold of Malfoy’s robes. Harry had just enough time to stop him by taking a firm grip on his friend’s shoulders.

Malfoy stumbled a bit as he took a couple of steps backwards. Then he straightened himself glancing once more at Harry and Ron. 

“Just get out of my way,” Malfoy said as he passed by them and exited the Great Hall. 

“Why didn’t you let me punch him?” Ron whined loudly.

“Are you kidding? In front of the staff?” Harry asked, pointing loosely at the staff table. 

“And when exactly have you become the voice of reason?”

“I… Just drop it, Ron, please. C’mon, let’s grab some toasts. I don’t want to be late for Potions,” Harry said, motioning towards the Gryffindor table. 

Ron raised his eyebrow questioningly but, to Harry’s relief, refrained from saying anything. They picked hastily up some leftovers and hurried towards the dungeons. 

\--*--*--*--*--

“I’ll visit the Owlery, I want to see how Hedwig’s doing,” Harry said quickly, stepping towards the front doors after dinner. 

“Do you want us to come with you?” Hermione asked, a bit worried.

“No, it’s alright, I’ll just pay a short visit and be right back,” Harry said reassuringly as he opened the doors and stepped outside to the brisk autumn air. 

Harry really wanted to see Hedwig, but he was also in desperate need of some time alone. He visited the Owlery, petted Hedwig for a moment and offered her some treats, but instead of heading back in afterwards, he decided to take a walk around Black Lake. 

Harry stopped on the other side of the lake. The air wasn’t that cold yet, but as the sun was about to set, Harry could feel a breeze that was like a promise of the upcoming winter. He shivered and took a long breath in. It was always so unbelievable to notice, how soothing an effect nature had on him. When Harry viewed the castle from the other side of the lake, it felt like all the problems inside its walls were so much smaller. Harry knew it wasn’t really a wonder because inside Hogwarts’ walls the Wizarding world was his whole life. But when Harry was alone somewhere in nature, he knew that there was so much more in the world. All the plants, animals, lakes, mountains, stars. Harry felt always so small when his thoughts started wandering around the whole universe. Then even Voldemort started to feel like such a small and harmless human being because there was no way he could be a match for all this. Of course, Harry knew there was nothing small or harmless in Voldemort and that the Wizarding world really was Harry’s whole life, but he felt so relieved to be able to escape from that reality sometimes, even if it was just for a brief moment. 

Harry sat down on the ground, closed his eyes, and tried to take in his surroundings as much as possible, just feeling and listening. 

After a moment of wonderful silence, he heard someone approaching him at a fast pace. 

“Potter,” Harry heard a familiar snarl as he snapped his eyes open and turned his gaze to Malfoy. He didn’t bother to stand up, but he grabbed his wand in his pocket, just in case the git had planned to attack him. 

“What, Malfoy?” Harry asked tiredly but surprisingly calmly. A moment alone in nature had apparently soothed his nerves so that even Malfoy couldn’t irritate him. 

“What was that shite Weasley was insinuating in the morning?” Malfoy asked angrily, although Harry could see that he seemed to be a bit confused as he saw Harry sitting on the ground, looking quite relaxed. 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, even though he knew what Malfoy was referring to. 

“Don’t play stupid. The me-wanting-to-put-my-hands-on-you shite.”

Harry pinched his nose for a moment, feeling frustrated. “He wasn’t insinuating anything. He was just reacting to you behaving like a dick.”

Malfoy looked perplexed and took a moment before answering. “So, you’re saying that you haven’t told him anything?”

“If you’re referring to the kiss, then no, I haven’t.”

Malfoy looked at Harry suspiciously. Then he seemed to decide that Harry didn’t appear to be a threat at that moment, so he sat cautiously down on the ground next to Harry. 

“But… What about you both snickering at me in the Great Hall the other day?” Malfoy asked, still seemingly suspicious. He looked Harry straight in the eye as if trying to find some answers in Harry’s eyes. 

“We were just planning how to hex you after the Quidditch practise, the one you and your friends so kindly decided to ruin for us,” Harry tried to say with venom, but ended up sounding calm. He noticed that the Slytherin no longer seemed to be angry either, so, probably for the first time in his life, Harry felt like it was hard to get annoyed with the git. 

“And you haven’t told anyone else either? Not even the Mud – Granger?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone,” Harry said firmly.

They both fell into silence. Harry could see that Malfoy was still tense and restless as if there was some kind of a storm going on inside his head. Harry was nonplussed by how Malfoy didn’t seem to want to, or even not be able to, hide his emotions from Harry. Fear and anxiousness were definitely that sorts of emotions that Malfoy considered as a sign of weakness, and something that Harry might use against him in the future. Malfoy’s openness made Harry feel somehow warm inside. He had a strange urge to touch the Slytherin’s face, to make his frown smooth and to hug him for as long as Malfoy’s worries would disappear and the tenseness would melt away. After a long moment, Harry sighed. 

“Look, I’ve no idea what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m really not going to tell anyone,” Harry said, trying to convince Malfoy of his sincerity. “No matter how much I, erm, dislike you, I really wouldn’t tell if you’re having some kind of crisis or something.”

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, changing his mind apparently. Then he opened his mouth again, this time a bit hesitantly. “Well, alright then,” Malfoy said and looked Harry in the eye, and Harry could see a glimpse of softness in Malfoy’s expression. 

Neither of them said anything as Malfoy stood up. He started to pace back towards the castle but stopped soon and turned around abruptly. 

“Potter?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” Malfoy whispered barely audibly and left hastily. 

\--*--*--*--*--

Harry laid sprawled on his bed, trying to get some sleep, but the sleep didn’t seem to come, unsurprisingly. He tried to make himself think about something nice and easy, such as Quidditch or their next trip to Hogsmeade, but his thoughts kept continuously coming back to Malfoy. Harry had to admit to himself that he had always had some pretty harsh beliefs about the Slytherin, but now at least some of them felt like coming crashing down. Not that the git had ever done something to change Harry’s mind, but Harry also knew that he had stuck quite stubbornly with his own view ever since their first encounter at Madame Malkin’s. Once he had formed an opinion on the prat, he had never even bothered to reconsider it. However, Harry believed in second chances and that people could truly change. Had Malfoy changed? Or maybe he had always been the same, but he had let Harry see only the most superficial level. 

Harry touched his lips softly, still feeling Malfoy’s kiss ghosting on his mouth. He had no idea where the urge to touch Malfoy, kiss him again and try to know him better had suddenly come. Although, now that Harry thought again, there had always been some strange energy between him and Malfoy. Even though Malfoy was a true pain in the arse, Harry had still always noticed him, been so aware of his presence and felt some kind of pull towards him. Malfoy was attractive, even Harry could admit it by now. 

The biggest problem now seemed to be that Harry had no idea what he should do next. Harry wasn’t really comfortable with his gay feelings, let alone gay feelings towards Malfoy. And what could he even do? There was no way he could just follow his instincts and push Malfoy against a wall and start snogging him in broad daylight. Harry grimaced at the thought. That would undoubtedly go well. Harry felt lost with Malfoy and his mixed signals, and he didn’t have a hint of what the Slytherin was feeling. In fact, Harry wasn’t even sure this wasn’t just some really twisted scheme to – what? Humiliate Harry? In any case, Harry was pretty sure even Malfoy wouldn’t go this far. 

Harry yawned. He should ask Hermione about this. Maybe tomorrow. 


	4. To Be, Or Not to Be, That Is the Question

Harry didn’t ask Hermione the next day. Nor the day after that. Soon Harry noticed a whole week had gone by and he still couldn’t make himself talk to Hermione. Not that Harry would’ve scared that Hermione didn’t accept him for who he was, but that could still end up being a painfully awkward conversation. And Harry _did_ hate awkward conversations. If there was any way to avoid an awkward situation, Harry was quite good at talking himself out of it. Besides, there hadn’t happened anything new between him and Malfoy, apart from some lingering stares in the Great Hall. The stares were something Harry thought he could manage. Maybe his odd feelings would just eventually go away, and he could just forget all about them without needing to tell anyone. 

Everything went quite smoothly until in one Potions class Snape thought it’d be an entertaining idea to pair Harry with Malfoy. 

Harry took a deep breath, sat down on Malfoy’s left side, and started looking for the Potions book in his bag. 

“Er, so, Strengthening Solution. You’ve done this one before?” Malfoy asked, stumbling awkwardly over his words. 

Harry felt dumbfounded. He had guessed it’d be somewhat uneasy to work with Malfoy, but he definitely hadn’t foreseen Malfoy to say something cordial, let alone to stammer almost worse than Harry himself. Something had clearly changed between them, and it seemed like neither of them knew how to act around the other anymore. 

“Er, no. Potions have never really been my strength,” Harry said and grimaced. As if Malfoy didn’t know the lack of his potions skills.

But Malfoy didn’t seem to notice Harry’s stupid comment. “Right. So, what if you pick up the ingredients while I prepare everything else?”

“Yeah, fine,” Harry said and hurried to the storeroom. 

He tried to linger as long as possible, trying to make his nerves calm down. When he finally went back, Malfoy was already ready, reading intently the instructions. 

“I can start with chopping,” Harry said, trying to sound casual. 

“Alright, so I’ll take care of stirring then,” Malfoy said. 

They fell soon into silence, both concentrating on their own tasks. Harry couldn’t help glancing at Malfoy from time to time, studying the Slytherin now that they sat so near one another. He noticed that Malfoy was still seemingly stiff and the Slytherin’s shoulders were high up. Though that didn’t apparently affect Malfoy’s potions skills because their potion looked precisely as it was supposed to look at this point. Gradually, Malfoy’s shoulders lowered and the frown between his eyebrows eased. Harry was surprised to remark how much easiness soothed Malfoy’s sharp features. One could say Malfoy looked even kind of benevolent then. Harry wondered how much more it’d soothe Malfoy’s features if he just let his white-blonde hair fall loosely around his face. Maybe his hair had even waves.

“Shit!” Harry cried out. He had been so lost in his thoughts he had managed to cut his finger while chopping the ingredients. 

Malfoy snapped his eyes at Harry. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Potter,” Malfoy said, grabbing Harry’s hand and trying to get it far enough from the ingredients. “Let me see it.”

The cut wasn’t deep, but it was still bleeding a little. 

“It’s nothing, really,” Harry said, a bit embarrassed as he tried to pull his hand away, but Malfoy just held his hand even tighter. 

“Don’t be an idiot, you can’t just bleed all over our potion,” Malfoy said and transfigured a parchment into a small rag. “I can’t do any Healing Spells, but I think this should do. _Aquamenti_.” 

Harry watched as Malfoy held Harry’s hand with one hand and cleaned his small wound carefully with the other. Harry couldn’t make himself breathe, Malfoy was so gentle with his procedures and his fingers tingled on Harry’s skin as if there was some kind of magic flowing between them. 

“It should be clean now,” Malfoy said softly, pulling the rag away but still not letting go of Harry’s hand. 

Harry raised his gaze to Malfoy’s face, just to see the Slytherin was watching him intently. Malfoy’s usually stormy grey eyes seemed to be much calmer now, as if there was a hint of warmth in them. 

“I – I think I’ve a band-aid. In my bag,” Harry stammered, feeling his face flush. 

“You’ve a _what_?” Malfoy asked, bewildered as he finally let go of Harry’s hand. Malfoy looked worriedly around the classroom as if only now realizing that anybody could have seen him and Harry holding hands and gazing at each other in the eye like some lovesick teenage couple. Luckily, brewing the Strengthening Potion happened to cause a lot of steam and require sharp concentration, so no one could really see anything more but their own potion and their partner. 

“A band-aid. It’s a kind of Muggle version of Healing Spell or something like that,” Harry said and dug a band-aid from his bag and put it on his wound. “I can’t do Healing Spells either, so these are quite handy if something like this happens.”

Malfoy watched Harry’s band-aid suspiciously. “What does it do?”

“It just keeps the cut clean and helps it to heal. And now I can’t smudge everything with my blood.”

The Slytherin just huffed without saying anything. 

“So, should we continue?” Harry said and seized the knife.

Then Malfoy grabbed Harry’s hand again and took the knife from him. “You’re definitely _not_ going to touch this thing again. Now, I chop, you stir.”

Harry wanted to object but refrained. They both fell again into silence for the rest of the class, and this time the silence between them felt relaxed and somehow amicable. 

It was only after the class Harry realized how much easier and more logical it’d have been if they had just asked Snape to do a spell to heal Harry’s cut.

\--*--*--*--*--

Late in the evening, when the common room had already calmed down, Harry slumped exhausted on the couch in the far corner of the room. Hermione, nose deep in her Transfiguration book, startled next to him. She marked the page she had been reading, put the book on her bag and raised her gaze at Harry. 

“So, what’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean what’s on my mind?” Harry asked a bit defensively.

“Harry, I can see there’s something bothering you. Spit it out,” Hermione said firmly with her all-knowing look. 

Harry took a deep breath. He had prepared for this and gone through the conversation countless times in his head. Still, it always seemed to feel so much worse in reality. 

“Er, how do you know if you fancy someone?” 

Hermione blinked her eyes, surprised. ”Do you want to talk about Cho?”

“No, not really. I – I just –” Harry stammered and flushed as he tried to find the right words.

“Someone else, then?”

“Well, not exactly.”

Hermione huffed, a bit frustrated. “Harry, what are you not telling me?”

“Erm, _IthinkImightbegay_ ,” Harry spluttered, his face turning violently crimson now.

Hermione blinked her eyes again. “– sorry?”

“I think I might be gay,” Harry said, this time managing to articulate himself quite clearly. 

“Oh,” Hermione said, seemingly surprised.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked worriedly. Hermione didn’t often get speechless.

“No, Harry, of course not! It’s a really good thing!” Hermione hurried to say. 

“– okay.”

“Or no, well, what I mean is that it doesn’t matter if you fancy boys, girls or both. I’m just really, really happy you’re being open with yourself, and that you wanted to confide in me with this. I was just surprised you were ready to talk about this.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Harry, you’re my best friend and we’ve known each other for years now. It’s been quite obvious you aren’t entirely straight, to say the least.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not knowing how to continue this conversation. 

“Do you want to talk about it? You know you’ve always the right to be yourself, no matter what,” Hermione said, making Harry feel relieved as she took the responsibility of carrying on their conversation.

“Yeah, I’m just not ready to, erm, come out of the closet or something. I haven’t really had time to think this too much yet.”

“That’s alright. You can have all the time you need, and when you’re ready, you know we are here to support you,” Hermione said softly, radiating so much fondness and warmth Harry felt unbelievably happy to have a friend like her. “Have you told Ron yet?”

“No, not yet,” Harry admitted. 

“I think you should tell him, too. I hate to keep this kind of secrets from either of you and, besides, it’d really make you feel better as well. I’m sure it’s safe to tell him.”

“Yeah, I’m going to tell him soon, I really am.”

“So, is there someone you fancy?” Hermione asked, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Well –.”

“So there _is_!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly. 

“Er, I think there might be,” Harry said, mumbling and turning his gaze to his lap. 

“Does he know you fancy him?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you know if he fancies you?”

“I’m not sure, that’s actually what I wanted to ask you. He’s sending me very mixed signals, it’s like he doesn’t like me at all, but at the same time it seems like there’s also something else going on inside his head,” Harry explained, feeling himself relax a little. 

“Hm, okay.”

“And he kind of kissed me once,” Harry said, feeling himself turning crimson again. 

“Oh! That’s definitely one way to show your feelings. So, there’s absolutely much more involved than dislike,” Hermione said pensively. “What did you think about the kiss?”

“I don’t know, or, I mean... I wasn’t expecting it at all, so I was kind of shocked. But afterwards, I haven’t been able to forget that kiss, and, erm, now there’re some other feelings as well. Inside my head, I mean,” Harry said. _God_ , he was feeling so awkward. 

“It’s okay,” Hermione said, putting her hand reassuringly on Harry’s arm as she apparently noticed Harry’s discomfort. “Do you want to tell me who you’re talking about?”

“No, sorry,” Harry said, feeling a bit guilty.

“That’s alright,” Hermione said calmly. “Well, I don’t know this person, so I can’t say for sure, but I think he might be trying to protect himself by being nasty towards you. It’s quite natural, actually. When a human being feels they are in danger, they usually act based purely on their instincts, and one common way to act instinctively is to attack. When you’re gay, let alone a teen-aged gay, you may feel really exposed and vulnerable, and you might not be able to control how you vent your feelings. It doesn’t mean it’s okay if he’s being mean to you, but it may explain it somewhat. Maybe he’s afraid of letting people know who he really is, so he might be trying to hide his feelings.”

“You mean, all I’ve interpreted as taunting is in reality – what – a crush or something?” Harry asked, utterly confused.

“Well, not necessarily. In any case, malice is a really unhealthy way to show if you’re interested in someone. All I’m saying is that there might be a reason behind all those mixed signals he’s sending to you,” Hermione said levelly. “But I’m pretty sure he has a crush on you. No one who dislikes you would just kiss you out of the blue.”

“How can you know all this?” Harry asked, still surprised about how much knowledge his friend’s brain was able to hold. 

Hermione looked pleased. “I didn’t want to forget the Muggle schooling totally when I started at Hogwarts, so I’ve read quite a lot about history, different cultures and psychology in my free time. They’re really fascinating subjects, actually. There’re so many reminiscent patterns in the Muggle and Wizarding world, and no matter if you’re a Muggle or a Wizard, our brains function similarly.” 

“You know, I don’t know anyone who knows as much as you. At least no one in our age.”

Hermione flushed and smiled at Harry. “Well, anyway, I think you should talk to your mystery bloke and ask him what’s going on between the two of you.”

“I’ll see, there hasn’t really happened _that_ much between us,” Harry said, picking his cuticles. 

Hermione raised her eyebrow. “Just don’t let him hurt or lead you, Harry.”

“I won’t, or I’ll at least try not to,” Harry tried to say confidently, even though he still felt quite insecure about everything that was somehow related to Malfoy. “Thanks ‘Mione, truly. I think I’d better head to bed now or I won’t make it to the morning lessons.” 

“Yeah, me too. And please, tell Ron as soon as you can.”

“I will, I promise. Good night, ‘Mione,” Harry said, getting up off the couch. 

“Good night,” Hermione said softly and started to walk towards the girls’ dormitories. 

“And Harry”, Hermione said, halting abruptly. “You know you can always talk to me if there’s something on your mind.”

Harry didn’t say anything, he just nodded and smiled thankfully at her. When he laid down on his bed, he felt like a heavy weight would’ve been lifted off his chest.

\--*--*--*--*-- 

The chance to tell Ron appeared quite naturally the next day. After another disastrous class of Defense, which had, surprise, surprise, ended up with more detentions to look forward to for Harry, Hermione had suggested they started studying Defense by themselves. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the otherwise empty common room in the middle of the night, and Harry had grudgingly promised to think about Hermione’s idea of him teaching the Defense to other students.

“Well, that’s settled then. I’m off to bed, I’m dead tired,” Ron said, yawning.

“Hey, but Harry, didn’t you have something you wanted to talk about?” Hermione said, looking at Harry pointedly. Harry glanced at her murderously. He didn’t exactly fancy the idea to talk about anything else that night. 

“Mate, couldn’t it wait ‘til tomorrow? I hate to be the voice of reason, but we do have classes tomorrow,” Ron said, oblivious about the stares his two friends were sharing with each other. 

“Harry, it’s easier if you just get over with it now.”

“Okay, now I do want to know what you’re hiding from me. What’s going on?” Ron asked curiously. Both Ron and Hermione turned their gazes to Harry.

“Okay, okay, _Merlin_ , just stop pressing me,” Harry said, exhausted. “Ron, I’m gay. There. Can we go to sleep now?”

Ron just ogled at Harry, dumbfounded. “But… Is this a joke?”

“No, Ron, this is not a joke,” Hermione said calmly.

“And you knew about this?” Ron asked Hermione. 

“I just – kind of figured it out myself.”

“Of course, you did,” Ron muttered a bit bitterly. “But Harry, what about Cho? And all the girls we’ve been talking about in our dormito – _oh_ ,” Ron said, a sudden realization lightening his face. “ _Now_ I get it why you always suddenly get so quiet when we start talking about girls.” 

“Er, are you okay with this? I… I don’t really want anything to change,” Harry asked uncertainly.

“Are you being serious? Why would this change anything? Except if you’re having a huge crush on me,” Ron said, grinning. “– you’re not having a crush on me, right?”

“God, no Ron,” Harry said, blushing and covering his face with his hands.

“Well, then I couldn’t care less, you know. Charlie is also gay – or maybe bi? Anyways, I have nothing against the, erm, queer people,” Ron explained lightly. “But ‘Mione, it’s not really okay to out people like this.”

Both Harry and Hermione glared at Ron, surprised, and Hermione started to look a little ashamed. 

“I just didn’t want to know this and keep you in the dark, it felt wrong. Besides, I thought it’d be great if we both could support Harry,” Hermione said guiltily. “I’m sorry, Harry,” Hermione said, looking into Harry’s eyes. 

“It’s okay,” Harry said reassuringly. He had felt angry and anxious earlier for how Hermione had tried to press him, but those feelings had already melted away. Both of his friends had reacted so well he couldn’t feel anything else but gratitude and happiness. And, well, awkwardness as well, but it wouldn’t really leave him in this kind of conversations, now would it?

\--*--*--*--*--

Harry’s happiness for his friends’ reactions didn’t last long in a world where being gay was only one of his numerous problems. The detentions with Umbridge had already become a routine, but Harry hadn’t really foreseen they could become worse and worse after every time. Harry’s wound didn’t have time to heal itself after the previous session before Umbridge’s cursed quill pierced his skin again, making the wound deeper and more painful every time. 

One evening Harry was walking back to the Gryffindor Tower, holding his aching hand tight. His wound was already so deep he couldn’t hide it anymore right after the session, and his robes were damp with blood as he tried to hide his hand under them. 

“Potter!”

Harry turned around on the corridor when he heard a familiar voice. Of course, Malfoy just had to have his prefect rounds always when Harry was going through his worst moments. “Malfoy,” Harry said, reserved. 

Malfoy strode quickly with his long legs, reaching Harry in no time. “Again, out of bed after the curfew, I don’t know what to do with you anymore,” Malfoy said, to Harry’s surprise, in a teasing tone instead of malevolent. “Care to tell me what you’re up to?”

“I’m not up to anything, just had detention with Umbridge, again,” Harry said grimly. 

“You must be an absolute horror. Or, well, that I knew already. But honestly Potter, the autumn has hardly started,” Malfoy said, still in a light and carefree voice. 

Harry halted abruptly. His dizziness had worsened making his body feel numb, and for a moment he could see nothing else but stars.

“Is there something wrong with you? You’re feeling unwell?”

“No, I’m just fine,” Harry said, but Malfoy looked at him with an utterly suspicious glare that felt as if Malfoy’s grey eyes were piercing him and reading him like an open book. 

For a split-second, Harry let his eyes rest on the other boy. The corridors were always quite dark in the evenings, and usually only the torches created some dim, eerie light. This night, though, the sky was clear, and the almost-full-moon shone through the windows, making Malfoy’s blond hair glisten as if small silvery stars were hiding in it. His skin looked even paler than usual, making a strong contrast with the black robes he was wearing. Even though it was dark and a bit blurry, Harry had no problem recognizing Malfoy’s characteristic sharp and slender features. He’s beautiful, Harry thought, startled.It was the only word he came up with to describe Malfoy at that moment. 

“Why are you holding your hand like that? You didn’t cut that hand on Potions,” Malfoy said, grabbing Harry’s arm before Harry had time to snatch it away. 

“It’s nothing, let go of me,” Harry said, panicking and trying to jerk his arm away. Malfoy ignored him and rolled Harry’s bloody sleeve up with a fast, eloquent movement. 

“What the fu–,” Malfoy said, inhaling sharply when he saw _I must not tell lies_ carved deep into Harry’s skin. “What in Salazar’s name is this?”

“Just another scar. Or, well, it’s practically still a wound.”

“I can see that, you twat, you know what I meant. Who did this to you?”

“Umbridge makes me write lines, and she has a special quill for that. Look, this isn’t really a big deal.”

“ _Isn’t a big deal_? A special quill? For fuck’s sake Potter, she’s hurting you seriously and you’re just fine with that? Merlin, save me from Gryffindors and their recklessness,” Malfoy whined. “There must be some really dark magic in that quill!”

“As if I didn’t know that,” Harry snapped angrily, jolting his arm free and hiding the wound. 

“But you’ve got to do something!”

“Why do you even care Malfoy?” Harry cried out defensively.

To that Malfoy didn’t apparently have an answer. He closed his eyes and pinched his nose with his thumb and index finger.

“Couldn’t you at least put an and-baid on it?” Malfoy asked after a moment. 

The corner of Harry’s mouth was tugging slightly upwards. “A band-aid,” Harry corrected Malfoy. “And no, they are quite useless for curse wounds, and I only have small ones, you know, for smaller cuts. But Hermione has some solution that made this heal a bit last time.”

“I just… Look, just be careful with Umbridge. She can be unpredictable. I already knew she’s a nutter, a _dangerous_ nutter, but I had no idea she’d go this far,” Malfoy said, sounding worried and looking into Harry’s eyes with a serious gaze. 

Harry didn’t know which one of them started it. They both took a step towards each other and leaned forward, closing slowly the small gap between them. Harry’s face was only inches away from Malfoy’s, and he could feel Malfoy’s warm breath on his lips. The kiss was tentative and timid at first, Harry’s lips barely touching Malfoy’s. It felt like a game, both of them wanting but neither of them brave enough to take the next step. Finally, Harry couldn’t help but press his lips more firmly against Malfoy’s, giving completely into the kiss. 

The kiss became messy and fervent. There was too much teeth, Harry’s glasses bumped awkwardly between them, and they didn’t really know how to move their lips against each other’s. Still, it felt like one of the best things Harry had ever experienced. His whole body felt so alive as he pressed it tightly against Malfoy’s, wanting to feel Malfoy’s chest and hips against his own. Harry threaded his fingers through Malfoy’s hair and snaked his sore arm around Malfoy’s waist as Malfoy put his hand softly on Harry’s cheek and ran slowly the other up and down Harry’s spine. Harry was surprised to find out how warm Malfoy felt, having such soft skin in contrast to his sharp angles. His body was lean and slender, but still strong after all the Quidditch training he had had for years now. Malfoy’s mouth was hot and his lips velvety soft against Harry’s slightly chapped ones. When Malfoy’s tongue touched Harry’s lower lip, seeking the entrance, Harry couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped from his throat. Harry felt so utterly wrecked, lost in the sensation of Malfoy’s body and the desire to just feel and taste more. 

Suddenly, Malfoy pulled away shocked, as if he hadn’t realized before what he was doing and with whom. 

“I cannot be gay,” Malfoy said, panicked and breathing heavily. 

Harry, still dazed because of the kiss and the sudden loss of touch, looked at Malfoy confused. “You’re not or you cannot be?”

“I cannot. I am not. What does it matter?”

“Well, I’d say it matters quite a lot, there’s a big difference between _can_ and _be_ in this context,” Harry snarled, feeling himself getting frustrated again. “What do you want from me, Malfoy?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” Malfoy said icily and started pacing away from Harry. 

“Wait, you git! You can’t just do this and then run away again!”

“Watch me, Scarhead!” Malfoy exclaimed and with that, he was gone. 


	5. In Grey Clouds

The days following the kiss made Harry’s confusion about Malfoy and his swinging moods turn into grumpiness. To Harry’s misfortune, he happened to vent off his frustration by snapping too often at Ron and Hermione without any valid reason, which made Harry feel even worse. He had tried to explain to them that he was just so tired and angry at Umbridge and her bloody quill, but Harry could see his friends remained suspicious. What was worse, both Ron and Hermione started acting extremely cautiously around Harry, as if Harry was a ticking timebomb that could explode at any minute. But Harry knew there was no way he could tell his friends what was really bothering him. He was pretty sure Ron and Hermione would be okay with everyone else, but not with Malfoy. Besides, Harry didn’t even know what to think about the situation, and even though he was angry with the git, he didn’t want to tell anyone about the situation without at least talking to Malfoy first. 

Malfoy’s behaviour towards Harry had also changed, and now Malfoy had decided to ignore Harry pointedly. He sat every meal in the Great Hall with his back facing Harry, and he refused to even look Harry in the eye when they bypassed each other on the corridors. Even Snape looked seemingly confused and disappointed when he couldn’t hear Malfoy and Harry’s usual bickering even though they were paired in the Potions again. At first, Harry had tried to get Malfoy’s attention, but he had soon noticed it was a lost cause, so he thought ignoring the git would be the easiest option. 

Harry didn’t still have a clue what had happened between him and Malfoy. He knew he might be a bit oblivious sometimes, but even he was pretty sure by now that Malfoy felt something for him. What he didn’t understand was what Malfoy meant by saying he couldn’t be gay. Harry knew it wasn’t easy to admit oneself being different from other people, but being gay wasn’t really a choice, right? There was always the option that Malfoy wasn’t attracted to blokes at all but based on Malfoy’s earlier behaviour, Harry was quite sure that wasn’t the case. Both times they had kissed, Malfoy had definitely kissed Harry with emotion. In addition to that, what really baffled Harry was how Malfoy had started acting as if he _cared_ for Harry. The git had never shown any empathy to Harry before, and now Harry couldn’t forget the way Malfoy had cleaned his cut so carefully and worried over his curse wound. But in the end, it all came down to Malfoy’s _I cannot be gay_ phrase, which made Harry confused about what the Slytherin wanted from him. 

Not that Harry knew what he wanted from Malfoy, either. He knew he was attracted to the git, and his instincts kept screaming for more. More kissing, more touching, more Malfoy in general. Even though they had dutifully ignored each other in Potions, the class had still felt like one of Harry’s highlights that week. He had been so aware of the Slytherin sitting next to him. He had felt Malfoy’s body radiating warmth, startled when Malfoy had accidentally touched his hand once and felt his right cheek tingling when Malfoy had reached for an ingredient for the potion and breathed warmly against Harry’s cheek for a split-second. It all felt so bittersweet because Harry’s mind was clearly pleased with the contact but at the same time, it was never enough. When Harry had been ready with chopping, he had to literally sit on his hands to be able to refrain from leaning against Malfoy and touching the other boy. Harry’s body and mind were sending him clear signals that being around Malfoy and touching him were good, positive, and even amazing things, which made his mind go giddy and his body feel warm and tingling all over. As if Harry’s mind and body were yelling to just go for it. But at the same time, Harry still knew it was Malfoy, so there was definitely something that didn’t add up. 

\--*--*--*--*--

The weekend and the first meeting in order to organize secret Defense lessons gave Harry something else to think about. He didn’t still know if he liked Hermione’s idea, but he could admit there definitely was a need for proper classes, especially if, or rather when, they one day had to fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. 

Harry was outside, leaning against Hog’s Head’s wall after the meeting. He was relieved the meeting was over. Even though it had gone quite well, Harry still felt uncomfortable when people questioned if he was telling the truth about Voldemort’s return and Cedric’s way to die. 

“ _Hem hem_.”

Harry startled. For a fraction of a second, he was sure Umbridge had discovered them, but then he could hear a familiar laugh. “Ginny! You can imitate her too well for your own good.” Harry said, laughing now as well. 

“I’m a natural talent,” Ginny said and winked at Harry, long, flaming red hair waving in the wind and brown eyes glistening playfully. “So, it went quite well, didn’t it? Got your message through despite your usual stuttering.”

Ginny seemed to be one of the few people who didn’t tip-toe around Harry that year, and it made Harry feel warm inside. It was soothing to be treated as a normal person occasionally. Besides, he had really started loving Ginny in a whole new way when she, according to Hermione, had got over her childhood crush on Harry. Ginny had become much more relaxed, bubbling, and witty around Harry, and he was so happy for the chance to get to know these sides of her.

“Well, my stuttering isn’t really anything new, so I think everybody came prepared,” Harry said, grinning. “Though that Smith, or whatever his name was, didn’t seem that eager. I don’t even know why he bothered to come. Could have just asked me about Voldemort and Cedric at school,” Harry said, his voice turning a bit grumpy.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just a nosy prat. He’s like that to everyone. Last week he was proclaiming loudly to Malfoy and his cronies how their parents must be all happy Death Eaters now that You-Know-Who has returned. Malfoy didn’t seem pleased.”

“On whose side is he exactly?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows, baffled. 

“I’d say ours. He just likes to get attention and irritate people,” Ginny said, shrugging. 

“He definitely knows how to make people like him,” Harry muttered, gritting his teeth. “So, how’s it going? Er, Hermione told you’re seeing Michael Corner.”

Ginny flushed slightly. “Yeah, we got together at the end of last year.”

“That sounds… nice,” Harry said, a bit awkwardly. 

“Yeah, it is.”

“Ron had a huge fit when he heard about that. Hadn’t seen him that… emotional in a long time,” Harry said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. 

Ginny let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Hermione told me, would’ve loved to witness that. My dear, overprotecting brother,” Ginny said. “What about you? How’s it going with you and Cho?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked quickly. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You know she fancies you. Everybody knows, it’s already common knowledge. Couldn’t take her eyes off of you during the meeting.”

“Er,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair. 

“Don’t you fancy her back?” Ginny asked, squinting her eyes at Harry. “At the Yule Ball, you seemed to be interested, asked her to be your date and all.”

“Well, yeah, I – I just don’t think there’s anything between us. At least nothing more than a friendship.”

“Speak for yourself, I _know_ there’s more from Cho’s side,” Ginny said. “So, is there someone else then?”

“No,” Harry managed to say hastily, but his face turning to crimson exposed him. 

“Oh, tell me, Harry! Who’s the lucky girl to win the Chosen One’s heart?” Ginny asked excitedly, looping her arm through Harry’s. 

“Don’t call me that,” Harry groaned. “And I really mean it, there’s no one.”

Ginny looked at Harry suspiciously. “I know there’s _something_ you’re not telling me. And I also happen to know I’m not part of your Golden Trio, but I hope you know you can talk to me. I want to be your friend, not just your friend’s little sister.”

Harry didn’t know he could feel both so guilty and happy at the same time. “Yeah, Gin, likewise. Truly.”

Ginny smiled at him. “Well, I’d better go now, Michael’s waiting for me at Three Broomsticks. See you around, Chosen One,” Ginny said and hugged him briefly.

Harry watched Ginny leave, her long hair waving wildly as she walked away. Harry felt lighter than for a long time.

Maybe there was something that could go right this year.

\--*--*--*--*--

“Harry, you look happier today,” Hermione said, pouring pumpkin juice into her goblet at breakfast the next morning. 

Harry was indeed feeling quite happy. The previous day in Hogsmeade had gone better he had anticipated, and he had still a whole Sunday ahead, hopefully full of flying.

“Well, yeah, it’s been a good weekend. Yesterday could’ve gone worse,” Harry said and grinned at Hermione. 

Hermione beamed. “Oh, Harry, I’m so glad you’ve got excited about the, er, teaching thing,” she said, lowering her voice and watching worriedly at the staff table. Umbridge was unsurprisingly present, glowering at the students as she sipped her tea. 

“I don’t know how it’s going to work, or if I even know _how_ to teach,” Harry whispered uncertainly. “But you’re right, ‘Mione, we definitely need to practise.”

Hermione patted Harry’s hand and smiled. “So, do you have plans for today?” she asked both Ron and Harry, changing the topic to a safer one. 

“I thought I’d go flying. And maybe send a letter to Padfoot,” Harry said. 

“Hey, I could go flying with you! If it’s okay my broom isn’t as fast as yours,” Ron said, mouth full of toast and sausage. 

“’Course it is, you don’t have to ask,” Harry said grinning. “I just want to fly, not to race.”

“Great! I’d like to practise the Double Eight Loop at some point, though.”

Hermione had returned to her book, and Ron and Harry had settled down to a discussion of different Quidditch moves when Harry saw from the corner of his eye someone with blond hair entering the Great Hall. 

Draco Malfoy was walking towards the Slytherin table, Pansy Parkinson clinging tightly to his arm. As they sat down next to each other, Parkinson took Malfoy’s plate giggling and started filling it. When she put the plate back in front of Malfoy, she kissed him eagerly on the mouth, putting her hands on his cheeks. Malfoy didn’t pull back. Instead, he seemed to be kissing Parkinson as eagerly as Parkinson was kissing him. 

”It was a surprise it took _this_ long,” Ron said dryly, watching as Parkinson started feeding Malfoy with a fork. 

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked and turned around to see the Slytherin table. “ _Oh_ , that’s… sweet.”

“ _Sweet?_ ”, Ron exclaimed. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even know they fancy each other.”

“You must be joking, right? Parkinson’s been chasing after Malfoy since the first year. At least,” Ron said incredulously. 

“Yeah, I had noticed that. I just thought it was one-sided,” Hermione said pensively. “Harry, is everything alright?” she asked when she noticed Harry had gone tense and started clenching his fists. 

“’Course. Actually, I’m not hungry anymore. I think I’ll go flying already,” Harry said, trying to sound as calm as possible as he stood up. His stomach had just turned upside down, and he was feeling so furious he couldn’t just stay and sit there. 

“Mate, I can come with you if you wait just a sec,” Ron said, his plate still full of food. 

“Or I could come with you if you want?” Hermione asked worriedly. 

“No, it’s okay, no need to hurry up with your breakfast. I’ll see you soon,” Harry said, waving his hand as he tried to walk out as normally as possible. 

When Harry got out of the Great Hall, he snatched his Firebolt from the broom cupboard and stormed out. When he saw there was no one else in the courtyard at that time, he started running at full speed towards the Quidditch pitch, letting the cold autumn air ruffle his hair.

Harry was just about to mount his broom when he heard someone approaching him running. 

“Potter!” Malfoy shouted as he hurried towards Harry. 

“What?” Harry snapped angrily. 

“You – You won’t tell anyone?”

Harry looked at Malfoy unbelievingly. The git did have the nerve. The only thing he seemed to care about was that Harry still agreed to keep his dirty little secret. And how could Harry even answer to that? _No Malfoy, of course, I’m going to keep your secret. I’m absolutely fine with you kissing me and then abruptly snogging with someone else right in front of me. Not a big deal_.Harry felt like his head was about to blow up, so he decided just to fly away without saying another word to the Slytherin.

At first, Harry flew as far away from the school as the Hogwarts’ wards let him. Usually flying reduced his stress as soon as he could feel the speed and see the ground get smaller and smaller as he flew higher up. Though that time his fury didn’t seem to let go that easily. He had to fly for a good while before he felt the tenseness to ease a fraction. 

The day wasn’t too bad. It was grey, cloudy, and somewhat chilly, but at least it wasn’t raining for a change. The clouds were hanging so low they could almost touch the treetops, so Harry could easily hide among them. It made Harry feel much more relaxed because he knew there was no way someone could spot him, and besides, it was just so much easier to breathe up there. 

“Potter! Could you stop for a minute?” Malfoy shouted, racing towards Harry. The git was fast, Harry could give him that. 

Harry had no intention to stop or slow down, though, so instead, he sped up and turned sharp left, trying to elude Malfoy by misleading him. 

For a moment Harry thought he had managed, but soon he could see the familiar blonde hair shining on his peripheral vision. Harry tried again, this time taking sharp turns one after another while flying at full speed. Once again he managed to elude Malfoy for a moment but somehow the brat succeeded to reach him easily after a while.

Before Harry even noticed, it wasn’t anymore Malfoy who was flying after him. Instead, they were both chasing each other in turns, doing more and more reckless moves as they dared the other one to follow suit. 

It felt fantastic and so, so liberating. Harry had always known Malfoy was an excellent flyer, but they had only ever flown together playing Quidditch on the opposite sides. This time there was no pressure or other students watching, so they were rather cheering each other to try their best. Even the usual rivalry between them had started feeling more like playful teasing from both sides. 

Eventually, Harry felt his limbs gone so numb he could hardly move them, and his teeth were chattering so wildly he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He headed towards the ground and saw Malfoy following right after him. 

They landed collapsing roughly on the ground on the shore of Black Lake. It was actually the exact same spot as last time, though this time it was much colder there. Some of the trees had changed their colours from green to different variations of orange, red and yellow, and Harry could nothing but just admire them, even though the grey and cloudy sky didn’t really flatter them. 

Harry and Malfoy were lying on the ground next to each other, still breathing heavily and both of them feeling utterly exhausted. They had frostbites all over their faces, and their hands were bright red as neither of them had apparently worn gloves. Harry cast a quick Warming Charm on both of them before closing his eyes and falling into silence.

After a moment Harry felt Malfoy entwining their pinky fingers tentatively together. Harry inhaled sharply and snapped his eyes open, but he didn’t move his hand away. 

“I meant what I said when I told you I can’t be gay,” Malfoy said, breaking the silence. 

“You never explained to me what you meant by that.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

“It’s – it’s complicated. It’s my family, my inheritance, my culture,” Malfoy said, sighing. “But it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want… this,” Malfoy continued, referring to their joined fingers. 

“You’ve got a pretty odd way to show it,” Harry said, sounding bitter.

“I’m sorry,” Malfoy said quietly. “Fuck, I never meant to drag you into this mess.” 

“A bit too late now,” Harry said sarcastically. “Look, for some reason I’ve started to, er, like you, but I can’t go on like this,” Harry said before turning to his side to face Malfoy.

Harry started drawing circles on Malfoy’s cheek with his fingers, and Malfoy leaned immediately into Harry’s touch, closing his eyes. Harry moved his hand to Malfoy’s forehead, trying to smooth the Slytherin’s worry wrinkles with his fingers. Then he lowered his hand to cup Malfoy’s other cheek and rubbed the frostbitten and red skin as he saw the other boy relaxing and starting to smile slightly. Finally, Harry put his fingers under Malfoy’s chin, tilted it up a fraction and leaned slowly against Malfoy. 

Their lips met, brushing tentatively against each other, and Harry knew he had lost himself again. Malfoy opened his mouth a little, and Harry slipped his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth, gently touching the other boy’s tongue. The kiss was slow and tender, both wanting to taste each other and learn how the other one felt like. Malfoy threw his arm around Harry’s waist and pulled Harry flush against himself, meanwhile Harry put his hand cautiously under Malfoy’s shirt, feeling Malfoy’s beating heart and lean, warm chest. 

Soon Malfoy’s breath became too fast and shallow, and his body went stiff again. Harry guessed these were the signs of Malfoy starting to freak out, so he broke the kiss and gripped the Slytherin’s wrist before he could even consider fleeing. 

“Don’t,” Harry said hoarsely. “Please. Don’t go.” 

Malfoy looked anxious, but this time he seemed to be able to stay. He took a deep breath a couple of times, eyes closed. 

“What is this?” Harry whispered, holding Malfoy’s wrist, and doing small, soothing circles with his thumb. 

“I don’t know,” Malfoy answered, looking lost and desperate. “I should keep away from you but I don’t know if I can.”

Malfoy pulled his hand away from Harry’s grip and started framing Harry’s lips with his index finger. “I like you, too, but that much must already be obvious to you.”

“I don’t know, really. You’re not exactly the easiest person to read.”

Malfoy sighed again. “I don’t want to cause you any harm. But I can’t, I just can’t.”

“That’s okay,” Harry said softly. And it was okay, at least for the moment. “Come here.”

Harry pulled Malfoy against him so that Malfoy was laying on him, their limbs entwined tightly together. Malfoy’s head was resting on Harry’s chest, and Harry could feel Malfoy’s hair tickling slightly under his jaw. They fell into somewhat bittersweet silence as they watched clouds floating slowly by. 

\--*--*--*--*--

“Harry! For goodness sake, where’ve you been?” Hermione exclaimed when Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table for dinner. 

“I told you I was flying,” Harry said and started to pile lamb chops on his plate. He and Malfoy had lost their sense of time until Harry’s stomach had made itself known loudly, thanks to his only half-eaten breakfast and non-existent lunch. They had decided it’d be better if they didn’t go back inside together, so Harry had made it to the Great Hall first, and Malfoy was still probably in the dungeons.

“For the whole day? Doesn’t seem likely, especially as Ron told me he couldn’t find you when he went after you,” Hermione said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. 

“ _Sorry_ ,” Ron mouthed to Harry, looking a bit guilty because of Hermione’s inquiry.

“I _was_ flying. Have you been outside today? It’s cloudy as hell, and I was in the middle of the clouds, so it’s no wonder Ron didn’t see me,” Harry said, irritated. “Sorry, mate, I was kind of lost in thoughts. Let’s go flying tomorrow after classes?” Harry said, turning his eyes to Ron. 

“It’s alright. Didn’t mind the cold that much, so I came back in quite quickly.”

“Harry, are you sure _you_ are alright? You seemed to be a bit upset when you left,” Hermione said, clearly with an intention of not dropping the subject. 

“Yes, ‘Mione. I really wasn’t hungry anymore, and I probably just needed some time alone,” Harry said, sighing. “Look, it’s nice of you to worry for me, but there’s really no need to. I promise I’ll tell you if there’s something you can help me with.”

The expression on Hermione’s face softened a little. “I can’t stop worrying for you. For _both_ of you. But I’ll try not to… express it so much?” 

“As if you could. You’re such a mother hen,” Ron said, snorting. “I mean it only in a good way,” Ron hastened to continue as he saw Hermione raising her eyebrows disapprovingly. 

Then, finally, Malfoy strode into the Great Hall, hand in hand with Parkinson. Harry clenched his teeth but forced himself to keep a deadpan face. He had known this would be coming, so there was no reason to get annoyed. Still, he felt something coiling nastily in his stomach when he watched as Parkinson filled Malfoy’s plate again and kissed him on the cheek. 

This time, though, Harry could make himself sit still and eat, and he even managed to chat lightly with Ron and Hermione. Maybe it was going to be fine. 


	6. The First Step

At first, Harry was quite proud of how well he stomached seeing Malfoy and Parkinson clinging to each other. They were snogging on the corridors, walking hand in hand in the courtyard, and Parkinson kept on feeding Malfoy as if the git was incapable of eating on his own. However, as the days passed by, Harry could no more ignore the nasty feeling coiling in his stomach with a straight face. He became quite withdrawn around his friends, but he was pretty sure he managed to keep up appearances, at least on some level. He knew he was now doing precisely the opposite than what Hermione had warned him not to do; he was getting led by Malfoy. Or was he? Malfoy hadn’t exactly promised anything, on the contrary, he had said quite clearly to Harry he couldn’t be with him. On the other hand, the git had let Harry kiss and touch him, sending Harry signals that maybe there truly could be something between them. Besides, Harry knew now he shouldn’t have kissed Malfoy. He didn’t care too much for Parkinson, but he still didn’t want anyone to get hurt, not even Parkinson.

Harry was quite sure his friends had noticed his withdrawal, but his time they didn’t ask anything. Harry didn’t know if it was thanks to his spectacular acting skills or because they knew there was a lot on his plate anyway. As if homework, detentions, gossiping and worry for Hagrid weren’t enough, now Harry and Ron had to worry for the future of their Quidditch team as well. 

As every Thursday, Gryffindors had Potions with Slytherins, which Harry wasn’t looking forward to at all. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking towards the dungeons when they heard Malfoy proclaiming loudly how Umbridge had given the Slytherin team permission to continue playing straightaway. 

“Don’t rise,” Hermione murmured warningly to both Harry and Ron. 

As Malfoy noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione approaching, his eyes looked anxious, but his lips curved into a familiar smirk. “Ah, Potter, Weasley! It’ll be interesting to see if Gryffindor is allowed to play, won’t it?” Malfoy said haughtily. “If it’s a question of influence in the Ministry, you’ll definitely have no problems with your outstanding connections. My father tells me constantly how much he appreciates the work Arthur Weasley is doing for the whole Wizarding world, regulating all that threatening and improperly used Muggle stuff. Such a dangerous job, would lose my night’s sleep if I didn’t know your father is there protecting us all from the horrendous Muggle contraptions, Weasley,” Malfoy said as other Slytherins were shrieking and howling with laughter. “And as for Potter… My father says it’s a matter of time before the Ministry has you carted off to St. Mungo’s, apparently they’ve got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic.” 

Ron had turned red and he took a step towards Malfoy, but Harry seized Ron’s arms and dragged him backwards. Harry looked Malfoy coldly in the eye. He couldn’t stand the situation any longer, Malfoy acting as if he hated and despised Harry. Maybe he _did_. How was Harry supposed to tell which one of these Malfoys was the real one? Malfoy’s eyes glowed with uncertainty, but other than that there weren’t any other indications that he wouldn’t stand behind his words. 

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry said as hatefully as he could before walking away, dragging Ron with him as Hermione followed right after them. 

“Harry, what the hell! Why didn’t you let me punch the brat?” Ron whined when they had gone far enough from the maliciously snickering Slytherins.

“You couldn’t have done anything before Grabbe and Goyle would have beaten you up.”

“That went well,” Hermione said, and Harry rolled his eyes. “No, Harry, I mean it. Malfoy was sure you’d rise, but you didn’t. Did you see the look on his face? He looked so surprised and even… uneasy. _This_ is the mature way to handle things. Or… maybe you could have refrained from using swearwords.” 

“Erm, right.” 

“Besides, you two picking fights with Malfoy and his gang wouldn’t really help you to get permission to play Quidditch if Umbridge got to know about that.”

Hermione’s rationality didn’t really help that much. Actually, Harry saw Ron getting only more annoyed at that, and he had started muttering curses in a low voice. 

“Hey, I forgot to tell you! I think I might’ve a place for us to practise Defense,” Harry said, desperate to change the subject. 

“You do?” Hermione asked, excited. 

“Yeah, well, Dobby has. He told me he has just a perfect place in mind. He promised to show it to me today.”

“Harry, are you sure you can trust Dobby?” Hermione asked, biting her lower lip suspiciously. “Don’t take me wrong, I do like Dobby, but you remember what happened last time he tried to help you.”

Harry sighed. He did remember all too well the second year and Dobby’s dubious ways to try to save his life. However, this time Harry had a pretty good feeling about Dobby’s idea for some reason. 

“Well, we won’t lose anything if Harry goes to check the place? It’s not a commitment,” Ron said, shrugging and looking slightly more relaxed and less red. 

“Right. Just be careful, alright?” Hermione said before they entered the Potions classroom. 

\--*--*--*--*--

Harry stepped out of the Room of Requirement with a tentative smile on his face. The Room was beyond all the expectations, and it was definitely perfect for their practice lessons. And, as Dobby had said, there were only a few people who knew about the place, so they should be able to keep it as a secret if they planned everything carefully enough. For the first time, Harry had a feeling their lessons might actually work out.

“Potter!” Malfoy’s voice echoed on the otherwise deserted corridor. 

The smile on Harry’s face disappeared abruptly. _Not now_ , his mind was pleading as he heard the steps approaching him. Harry decided to keep walking, maybe the git would get the message right. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Malfoy asked, putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and making him stop. 

“What do you mean what’s wrong with me?” Harry said coldly. 

“You’re ignoring me and acting all weird!” 

“ _I’m_ the one acting weird?” Harry hissed venomously. “I still have no sodding idea what you want from me.”

“I already told you I like you!” Malfoy hissed back.

“Oh, right, sorry, my bad. How could I forget I should be okay with you snogging with your girlfriend all around the castle _and_ bullying me and my friends because, hey, you said you like me!” Harry said. “I’ve no clue when you’re being real and when you’re acting. If you even can be real, to begin with.”

“What do you want me to do? I can’t just suddenly start acting nice to you,” Malfoy exclaimed, looking desperate.

“I don’t know, Malfoy! And honestly, I don’t even care,” Harry said, pushing Malfoy hardly on the chest. “Just leave me alone!” Harry said before leaving Malfoy alone in the corridor. 

\--*--*--*--*--

“Hey look! Troubles in paradise,” Ron said, smirking and staring at the Slytherin table when they were eating breakfast the next morning. 

Malfoy had just sat down on the table, as far from Parkinson as possible. Parkinson was shooting daggers at Malfoy’s direction, but Malfoy ignored her. When Harry studied Malfoy’s expression more carefully, he noticed that the Slytherin had black circles around his eyes as if he hadn’t slept at all last night. 

“It didn’t last long. Even Parkinson can’t stand the Ferret longer than this. How long were they together? For a week?” Ron continued happily as Hermione rolled her eyes. “What? I refuse to have a guilty conscience just because I enjoy seeing the Ferret suffer. Harry, what’re you thinking?”

Harry snapped his eyes quickly from Malfoy. “Nothing, I’m not that interested in Malfoy’s love life. Although I thought he and Parkinson would’ve matched well with each other, both are almost equally awful morons.”

“You’ve got a point there, a match made in heaven,” Ron said, laughing.

“Oh Jesus, I forgot my Transfiguration essay,” Hermione said, searching it fervently in her bag. “I must go get it.” 

“I can get it if it’s in the common room. I forgot my book and I’ve already eaten anyway,” Harry said and stood up. 

“It should be on the table by the hearth. Thanks, Harry!”

“No problem. Save me a seat next to you, alright?” Harry said and left hastily. 

Harry found his book and Hermione’s essay in record time, and to his surprise, he noticed he had quite a lot of time left. He decided to take a longer route to the Transfiguration classroom and enjoy the deserted corridors as almost everybody was still on the breakfast. However, his walk got suddenly interrupted as someone grabbed his robe sleeve and dragged him into an empty classroom. 

“What the hell –,” Harry cried out and pulled his wand from the pocket. 

“Good morning, Potter.”

Harry blinked his eyes, confused. “Er, Zabini?” Harry asked, trying to remember the name of the long, dark-skinned Slytherin boy. 

“Yes. Pardon me, I’ve never introduced myself properly. Blaise Zabini,” Zabini said, offering his hand. 

“Erm, Harry Potter,” Harry said awkwardly and shook Zabini’s hand, feeling clumsy. He was so perplexed he couldn’t make himself do anything else but stare at the Slytherin with wide eyes. 

“So, you must be wondering why I ruined your pleasant morning walk and dragged you here,” Zabini said, managing to somehow make his voice sound elegant, posh and polite at the same time. 

“To put it mildly,” Harry muttered. 

“Maybe it’s for the best if I get straight to the point,” Blaise said firmly. “I know about you and Draco.”

Harry gasped sharply. “I – I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, sounding so untruthful even a troll could tell he was lying. Of course, Malfoy had gossiped to the Slytherins, it had all been just one big Slytherin scheme, and now they were going to, what, blackmail Harry?

“Oh, please, as if Draco has ever managed to be discreet when it comes to you. He has tried, I can give him that, but with really poor success.” 

Harry was quiet for a while, trying to understand what on earth Zabini was explaining to him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry said again, this time meaning it. 

Zabini sighed. “I had assumed you might be a bit obtuse based on Potions classes, but I didn’t know if it was only Potions or the outside world as well.”

Harry felt anger rising, but instead of saying something, he waited for Zabini to elaborate. 

“Draco has always been a bit, ah, obsessed with you, ever since the first year. It must have become an infatuation at some point during the last couple of years, and he can’t really hide his feelings that well anymore as his mood swings and rants about you have only worsened, which I, quite frankly, didn’t even know to be possible.” 

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” Harry said. He found it hard to believe Zabini, not only because he didn’t know the boy at all but also because all Zabini was saying sounded so surreal as if it was from a really, really odd movie. 

“I don’t expect you to say anything, I just want you to listen to what I have to say,” Zabini said calmly. “I’m quite sure I’ve known about Draco’s proclivities before he even admitted them to himself. I’ve known him practically for my whole life, and he isn’t too hard to read if you know him well. And if I’ve gathered right, there has been something going on between the two of you this autumn?”

Harry felt his face turn red. “Erm, maybe,” Harry said, fiddling with his sleeves. “If you know Malfoy that well, why don’t you ask him?”

“Draco doesn’t know I know him to be a homosexual, and I prefer to keep it that way. He thinks no one knows, except for you, apparently, and I don’t want to freak him out. At least not yet,” Zabini said. “Anyway, the main reason I dragged you here is that I’d really appreciate it if you tried to take the first step towards Draco. As I’ve understood, the infatuation is mutual in your and Draco’s case.”

Harry stared at Zabini blankly. “And what exactly do you want me to do? Malfoy’s behaviour towards me changes twice a day, I’ve no idea when he’s being real or what he wants from me. Besides, he has a girlfriend.”

“ _Had_. He broke up with Pansy, probably because of you. Their relationship wasn’t even remotely real, to begin with,” Zabini explained. “Potter, you don’t know anything about pureblood culture, do you?”

“A little,” Harry muttered, shrugging. 

“The thing is, pureblood culture is still a little… old-fashioned. Homosexuality simply doesn’t exist, that’s what all the pureblood children get to learn as fast as they learn to understand speech. When it comes to Draco’s family, Draco has huge pressure on his shoulders as the only son and heir of the Malfoy name. He is scared of his family abandoning him if he doesn’t meet his parents’ expectations. That, I’d assume, is the main reason his behaviour towards you has been quite hostile earlier and now rather contradictory. He has tried to hide his feelings even from himself by distancing himself from you, but I don’t think he can do it anymore. And I sure hope he can’t go on like this, otherwise, he’s going to destroy himself in the end. It’s not healthy to pretend to be something you’re not.” 

“But that sounds… How could anyone even consider abandoning their child only because they’re not straight?” Harry said incredulously. “But you’re pureblood as well? How come you’re being this supportive?”

“My family has always been quite modern and open-minded in the pureblood scale. And Draco is one of my best friends, of course, I’m going to stand by him,” Zabini said. “Potter, please, just talk to him. He’s miserable at the moment, and I only want him to be happy.”

Harry eyed Zabini, feeling still suspicious. “I can’t promise to do that,” he said hesitantly after a moment. “But I promise to think about it.”

“Thank you, Potter. It was truly a pleasure,” Zabini said, clapping Harry on the shoulder before leaving Harry alone in the classroom. 

\--*--*--*--*-- 

“Hermione, what do you know about pureblood stuff?” Harry asked, slumping on the couch next to his friend in the common room. There was so much in Harry’s mind he didn’t really understand, and his thoughts felt like bursting out from his head. 

Hermione regarded Harry, confused. “What do you mean by ‘pureblood stuff’?”

“The whole system. Culture. I don’t know how to call it.”

“And what exactly makes you interested in the pureblood culture all of a sudden?”

“Dunno. Just kind of realized I know nothing about it. Except for the aristocracy and hierarchy based on the blood,” Harry said, trying to shrug nonchalantly. 

Hermione closed her book and her eyes started to gleam, which, Harry knew, meant she was enthusiastic about the subject on some level. “That’s really an interesting question, I’ve wondered it a lot as well,” she said thoughtfully. “At first you have to make it clear to yourself that being a pureblood doesn’t mean you’re just like all the other purebloods. Some of the purebloods might be rather fanatic about the blood, old pureblood traditions and protecting ‘our kind’”, Hermione explained, saying the last part a bit disdainfully. “Meanwhile the others might not care for the traditions nor believe in blood purity at all.”

“Like Ron’s family.”

“Exactly. But I assume you’re not talking about them when you’re referring to the pureblood culture?”

“No, I meant more like… Slytherin kind of pureblood system. You know, huge manors, blood purity, ancient traditions, that kind of stuff.”

Hermione nodded solemnly. “I haven’t found that many books about purebloods. Or, I mean, of course, there’re loads of books about them, their traditions, family trees and so on, but they are all praising the pureblood system. I haven’t found anything even remotely objective, let alone something criticising. I have actually compared the pureblood culture quite a lot with religions, there’re surprisingly many similarities between them. If we’re talking about the most, well, conservative form of pureblood culture, it isn’t that different from really conservative religions.”

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised. He was feeling a bit embarrassed about how little he remembered about religions. Of course, he knew some basics from the Muggle news and the primary school he had attended before starting at Hogwarts, but it wasn’t a lot. Besides, no one around him had been particularly religious, so he didn’t have any personal experience either. 

“Yeah. It’s like… A group with really strict rules and traditions you have to follow. You can’t be different, do anything differently nor express different opinions if you want to remain as a member of the group. If you don’t follow those rules and traditions, you might be kicked out of the group. That’s usually a really traumatic experience because the group may be your whole world. I mean like your whole family, all your friends and everything you’re familiar with may be in it. But if you decide to stay in the group, you may have to act that you’re something you’re not or that you think exactly like them even if you didn’t, and it’s usually even more traumatic in a long run than leaving the group.” 

Harry listened to Hermione, shocked and feeling sickened. He hadn’t had absolutely any idea; he hadn’t even thought anything like this could be possible. “Do you mean your family and friends could actually abandon you if you were different or expressed your own opinions?” 

“Yes. It’s not really that unusual. Muggles have even specific support groups for people who have either left voluntarily or been kicked out. I doubt there’s anything similar in the Wizarding world, even though there definitely should be,” Hermione said gloomily. “Think about Padfoot, for example. He didn’t believe in blood purity nor pureblood traditions, such as marrying another pureblood and producing an heir, so he left voluntarily. His family didn’t take it well, and as you know, he was made it very clear that there’s no coming back and that he was no longer a part of their family. Padfoot was lucky to have close friends who weren’t part of the same, toxic system, so it was easier to leave. If you don’t have that kind of support it’s really scary to even think about leaving.”

“God, ‘Mione, I didn’t know any of this. How can everybody still be okay with this? Why doesn’t the Ministry do something?”

“Of course, there are individuals who’re not okay with this, but the problem is that the conservative purebloods hold high positions in the Ministry or have otherwise wide connections there. And now with You-Kno –, um, Voldemort, it’s all going rather backwards.”

“So, there’s absolutely nothing we can do before Voldemort’s gone.”

“Not really,” Hermione said, shrugging. “But I’m really happy you want to know more about these things. I think a deeper level of understanding helps a lot and might even be in a key position for us to be able to fight against Voldemort. It’s not all about magic, we have to understand how different people and groups work.”

Harry felt amazed at how much his friend knew, and now even Harry felt like he understood at least slightly better what Zabini had tried to explain to him earlier that day. “But, ‘Mione, how do you know all this? Or, I mean, _why_?”

Abruptly, the expression on Hermione’s face turned sad. “As a Muggle-born, I’ve wanted to understand why some people hate me only because my parents aren’t wizards. Or, well, I can’t say I fully understand it but trying to understand makes me feel better. I don’t believe all those gits who rant about the blood really stand behind their opinions, many of them are just mimicking what their parents have told them,” Hermione said as tears started running down her face. 

Harry felt really bad for his friend. He took Hermione’s hand between his own hands and looked straight into Hermione’s eyes. “I know you know their opinions are utter nonsense, but I still want to emphasize how amazing you are. You’re one of the best people in my life, I couldn’t make it without you,” Harry said, meaning every word. “You’ve said to me hundreds of times I can always talk to you when I feel like it. I want you to do the same. I wish I had known about all this much earlier.”

Hermione let out a strangled voice and pulled Harry into a hug. Neither of them said anything for a long while as they sat still, Hermione sobbing on Harry’s shoulder and Harry patting her head a bit clumsily.

“Okay, that’s enough, I have to finish my Potions essay,” Hermione said, pulling back and wiping her tears. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, worried. “If you’re feeling okay, I should still go, er, somewhere before the curfew,” he said. He had a feeling he needed to see Malfoy now, like right now. 

Hermione glanced at Harry, scrutinising him. “Are you going to meet with the mystery boy?”

“No, no, I mean, it was just unrequited. From my side. Haven’t thanked Dobby for helping us to find a perfect place to practise, so I thought I could see if I find him in the kitchens.”

“Oh, that’s really nice of you, Dobby will be thrilled. Send him greetings from me!” Hermione said, and Harry squeezed her hand once more before exiting the common room. 

As soon as Harry had found a small, hidden alcove, he pulled out the Marauder’s Map. He scanned the Map for a moment before finding Malfoy’s small, labelled dot walking on the courtyard towards the castle alongside another dot, labelled Zabini. Harry put the Map back into his pocket and hastened downstairs. 

When Harry made it to the entrance hall, he found Malfoy and Zabini hovering there already. They both glanced at Harry as he paced towards them, Malfoy reserved and anxious, and Zabini looking somewhat… hopeful?

“Malfoy, could I speak with you for a moment?” Harry asked uncertainly. 

Malfoy looked like he was about to freak out. His eyes widened and he looked around, alarmed. Apart from Malfoy, Harry and Zabini, there was only one small group of third-year Hufflepuffs hanging around, deep in their own conversation. 

Zabini put his hand firmly on Malfoy’s shoulder. “I think you should talk to him. He’s the Chosen One, after all,” Zabini said with a knowing and a little teasing glint in his eyes. 

Malfoy looked at Zabini, confused, but he relaxed a little. “Whatever for the Boy Who Lived,” Malfoy muttered, turning his gaze from Zabini to Harry. 

“Oh. Good. Okay. Let’s have a walk around the lake?”

“I just came from outside, Potter. You must come up with something else,” Malfoy said, finding his usual, haughty voice. 

“I suppose my company is no longer needed here, so I’ll leave you to it. See you later, Draco,” Zabini said and _winked_ at Malfoy before leaving. 

“I don’t want to be seen with you,” Malfoy whispered when Zabini had left. 

“I know that you git. I’ll go first, and you can hold as long distance as you want,” Harry said and started towards the staircase. 

Harry climbed some staircases and took a corridor he had chosen earlier to be his plan B. He checked the Map just to be sure the classroom he had had in mind was still empty. 

Harry opened a slightly creaking door. He had never been in that classroom before and based on the disorder, cobwebs and dust in the room, it wasn’t used very often. 

Malfoy followed Harry cautiously and closed the door. His eyes were unreadable when he turned to look at Harry in the eye. 

“So?” Malfoy snarled.

“I – I wanted to…,” Harry said stammering, not really knowing what to say. He cursed himself. He should have planned better what to say and not just spontaneously follow his urge to see Malfoy. 

“Yes, Potter?” Malfoy snapped. 

“I want to know what you think there’s going on between us,” Harry blurted out. 

Malfoy regarded Harry coldly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say. There’s nothing between us,” Malfoy said vehemently. 

“Yeah, right, you’ve just randomly happened to kiss me, what, three or four times now?” Harry said furiously. “Look, I don’t want any harm to you. I just want an honest answer.”

Malfoy seemed still to be suspicious. “I think I already told you what I think about you,” he said slowly. 

“Yeah, I remember what you said but that’s not what I meant. I want to know what you _want_ from me,” Harry said surprisingly confidently. 

“What does it matter? It couldn’t work out anyway.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Okay, if I start. I like you, even _care_ for you for some reason, and I’d like to be with you. If you feel the same.”

“What, do you mean like… lovers?”

“Erm,” Harry said, blushing. “I think something like boyfriends would be okay. For me, at least.” 

Malfoy studied Harry cautiously and took a step towards him. “Fuck, Potter,” Malfoy said, raising his hands tentatively to Harry’s cheeks. “I do want to be with you. But I’m scared someone gets to know about us.”

“I know, it’s okay. I mean, I’m not going to tell anyone,” Harry said, trying to remember all Hermione had told him about the pureblood ways of thinking. It was pretty hard to concentrate as he felt Malfoy’s warm hands caressing his cheeks. “I don’t want anyone to know, either. At least not yet.”

Malfoy leaned forward, his breath tingling warmly on Harry’s face, eyes fixed on Harry’s lips. “Boyfriends, Potter, what a horribly mundane word. Only you could come up with something like that,” Malfoy whispered, and Harry felt his own body shivering a little. 

“At least a hundred times better than your suggestion. God, _lovers_ , Malfoy, honestly,” Harry said, feeling lost of breath. 

Malfoy chuckled a little before leaning his forehead against Harry’s. Harry closed his eyes, put his arms around the other boy’s waist, and pulled Malfoy firmly against him. Malfoy pulled slightly back, which made Harry snap his eyes open. He stared into Harry’s eyes, grey eyes sparkling. He lowered his hands to Harry’s chest and started pushing Harry slowly backwards, his eyes never leaving Harry’s.

When Harry’s back met the wall behind him, Malfoy pushed his chest and waist against Harry’s and took Harry’s arms, pinning them against the wall. Malfoy started kissing him heatedly, slipping his tongue into Harry’s mouth without hesitation. Harry felt powerless to struggle to free himself from Malfoy’s grip as he felt Malfoy’s body flush against his and Malfoy’s warm mouth on his as he kissed Harry passionately. 

Soon Malfoy’s mouth left Harry’s, and he started kissing Harry’s neck instead. Harry let out a strangled voice and tilted his head automatically to give Malfoy better access. 

“God, Malfoy, you’re ruining me,” Harry said, breathless. 

Malfoy laughed softly against Harry’s neck and let finally go of Harry’s arms. Harry put his hands instantly to Malfoy’s waist and started tugging the hem of Malfoy’s shirt. He laid his hands against Malfoy’s warm, soft skin, feeling thin hairs below the Slytherin’s navel. 

“You know, you’re the first person I’ve ever kissed,” Harry said, pulling slightly back and putting his arms loosely around Malfoy’s waist. 

“I’ve only kissed Pansy and you,” Malfoy said, and Harry felt a small stab of jealousy. 

Malfoy must have noticed that because he continued. “The thing between me and her was never real. I’ve tried to make me like girls, but it’s never worked out,” Malfoy said, sighing. “It felt wrong, thinking about you when I was kissing her. So, I ended things with her. And being in a fake relationship wasn’t fair to her, either.”

Harry felt a bit relieved. “I know you can’t be nice to me publicly, but if you’re with me, I want you to be only with me.”

Malfoy started to draw lines along Harry’s face with his finger. “I wouldn’t do that again. I want to be with you,” he said softly. 

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Malfoy’s finger moving lightly around his lips. 

“You’ve never told her you might prefer, erm, blokes?” Harry said, opening his eyes again. 

“Of course not. She’s a really good friend, but no, I haven’t told anyone,” Malfoy said. “Which reminds me of Blaise. Why on Earth did he wink at me when you came to talk to me?”

Harry avoided Malfoy’s gaze. Zabini had asked not to tell Malfoy he knew about them, but Harry didn’t know how to answer Malfoy’s question without lying. 

Malfoy noticed instantly Harry knew something. “So, he knows?”

Harry didn’t say anything, just nodded. 

“How? And how do _you_ know he knows?” Malfoy said, sounding a bit alarmed.

“He came to talk to me earlier today. As for how he knows, I don’t really know. He just said it was kind of obvious or something,” Harry said. “You should ask him.”

“Fucking Blaise,” Malfoy muttered and started playing absently with Harry’s hair. “Well, he’s always said I’m a little obsessed with you, though I really don’t get it. And he noticed I had a small breakdown at the Yule Ball when you stumbled into the Great Hall.” 

“You did?”

Malfoy blushed. “Well, you did look rather handsome in your dress robes.”

Harry chuckled and kissed the tip of Malfoy’s nose. 

“I’d better go now. I need to still find Blaise,” Malfoy said, pulling his hands from Harry’s hair. 

“Meet me tomorrow? After dinner, on the other side of the lake?”

“Yes,” Malfoy whispered, leaning to kiss Harry for one more time. 


End file.
